


Pride, Prejudice and Destiel

by MayaAodhan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Doctor!Sam, Lawyer!Castiel, M/M, Pride and Prejudice/Supernatural AU, Supernatural AU - Freeform, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-05 19:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 27,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4191357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayaAodhan/pseuds/MayaAodhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finishes a long day at work to catch up with his brother Sammy, almost sister in law Jess and her best friend, Castiel. But things don't go well for the city slicker lawyer and the homegrown mechanic. Neither understand the other's way of life, but when they are often thrown together in coming months, they learn a little more about one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I keep seeing Dean as the Lizzie and Cas as the Darcy. It just seems to fit and I couldn't get this idea out of my head. If you like it, please take the time to kudos! I would really appreciate your feedback!
> 
> It is slow burn, but there are sexy times planned! I hope you aren't disappointed thus far. The rating will change then.

Dean scrubbed his hands over his face, his beard rasping over his palms. He scowled. He should shave before the shin dig. He shoved out from under the Impala, levered himself up off the floor trolley and wiped his hands on an old rag tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He peered at the battered face of his watch. Shit. Too late. Really late. Sammy was going to strangle him.  
He had made Dean promise he wouldn't stay late at the garage. He had him swear to it. Dean rubbed the back of his neck as guilt gnawed at his belly. He yanked out his phone, the simple flip device that he refused to trade in on a smart phone with the hundred apps that he wouldn't never find a use for. He pulled up Sammy's number and jammed his thumbs over the letters.  
omw. wont b l8.  
A few seconds later it beeped.  
You have 10 min. Jess and her friend got here 30 min ago. Don’t let me down.  
Don’t sweat it. Dean typed, rapidfire, slapping his hand on light switches in his garage. He had been sweating plenty for the past couple hours. He shoved his arms into the sleeves of his khaki jacket and yanked open Baby’s driver side door. 

Dean pulled into the driveway and had to slam on the brakes to avoid crunching the front end of the Impala into the pristine bumper of the immaculate four wheel drive. He yanked the wheel and pulled onto the lawn, bumping over something he hoped was the sprinkler and not something more expensive.  
He got out and approached the steps of the two storey building that had served as his home for the past ten years, and Sammy’s until he had headed off for med school four years ago. Dean had a room on the top floor, looking out over the valley that scooped beyond their house and down to the river that wound its way in a narrow green ribbon through the countryside. The sun had set, dusk settling it’s cobwebbed fingers over the small property. Dean took a deep breath, a faint smile curving his lips as he toed off his workboots and left them beside the doormat. In socked feet, his big toe peering from a hole, he strode down the hallway toward the kitchen. He could hear the sound of voices from the brightly lit room, and figured he should make his greetings before heading up for a shower.  
“Hey, Sammy.” Dean greeted his brother from the doorway. Sammy turned to face him, the smile on his face broadening. He stepped across the kitchen floor with two big steps and folded Dean in a brotherly hug. “Welcome home.” His voice was muffled against his brother’s shoulder. He had definitely missed the big moose.  
“Awww.” A feminine voice interrupted their reunion. “I should take a photo for when you two start bitching at each other in the next few hours.” There was laughter in her tone.  
Dean took a step back. He slapped Sam gently across the face in their old greeting. Sam ruffled Dean’s hair in retaliation. Dean grunted and ducked, moving toward Jess, who he wrapped in his own bear hug, before dipping her back, to a shriek of her laughter, and bussing her fiercely on the lips. “When will you leave this dead beat and come live with me, gorgeous?” Dean demanded.  
“Probably right around the time you get decent cell reception out here. Which is probably going to be…exactly…never.” A new voice interrupted their playful greetings. It was low, gravelly and a little flat in its intonation, as though the man was intensely bored.  
“Dean…this is my friend, my oldest, dearest friend, Castiel Novak.” Jess eagerly introduced them all. “Castiel, this is Dean. Sam’s oldest brother. He brought him up after their parents passed away.”  
Dean studied the man who had descended from upstairs. The grey suit was immaculate. Not a hair was out of place and he was clean shaven, even at this time of day. He was flicking through one of those smart devices, with the hundred apps Dean just bet he knew the use of. But…Jess was family, and this Castiel was Jess’ family before Sam. He held out his hand in greeting.  
Dean watched the bright blue gaze of the suit clad bff drop to study his oil stained hands, hesitating before gripping Dean’s hand for the briefest time possible, bordering on rude. Dean pasted a smile on his face.  
“I’m going to catch a shower. What’s for dinner?”  
“We are heading out to the Tree Frog. Got reservations yesterday.” Sam leaned back on the kitchen counter.  
Dean grinned. “Hell yeah. Love that place.”  
“What…is the Tree Frog?” Castiel’s tone drew Dean’s glance again. The city slicker had a look of disdain on his face.  
“Best place ever, Cas. You are gonna love it. They will love you in that very…nice suit.” Dean clapped him on the shoulder on the way past, and enjoyed the way the man’s brows drew together in a dark frown. Dean couldn’t stop the chuckle as he headed up the stairs for a shower. He tried to ignore the faintest itch that had him swiping his hands down his denim clad thigh.


	2. Wherein Deans hears ill of himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night out doesn't go well, nor end well.

.   
"The lasagne, Lisa. Biggest slice you can spare." Dean didn't even look at the menu, just grinned up at the slender, dark haired waitress who hovered over the table.

"Bobby will look after you, darlin'," Lisa grinned, affectionately scruffing Dean's hair.

Dean picked up his beer and met Castiel's thoughtful gaze across the table. He saluted him with the bottle and grinned wickedly. "How about you, Cas? What takes your fancy?"

Castiel glanced down at the plainly printed menu. "What do you recommend?"

Dean's lips quirked. "All of it's good, city slicker. Take a risk."

Castiel's lips twisted in what Dean could only interpret as annoyance. Dean leaned back in his chair and studied the room. All of the tables were filled. Some locals, some had travelled from nearby counties, the reputation of the Tree Frog deservedly spread wide. Bobby had created quite the experience, the walls filled with art, shelving crowded with items from his travels. And everywhere, the tiny green frog figurines peering from tankards, picture frames and flower arrangements were the everpresent guardians of the eating place. Dean was pleased to see how many were enjoying Bobby's food. His smile broadened as he saw the Hamilton boys scooping up spaghetti, plastering most of it over their faces and in a widening circle surrounding the table.  
Dean turned his attention back to the table, and met Castiel's steady blue eyes. He stilled. There was curiosity in those bright depths. A sharp intelligence also. But no warmth. No connection. Jess and Sam were talking in low tones about an exam they had coming up, so Dean attempted to break the silence on his side of the table.

"So, Cas, what do you do for a living? Don't think Jess ever mentioned it."

"My name is Castiel," his companion said stiffly, rotating the stem of his glass of wine between thumb and forefinger. "And I work as a corporate lawyer for a firm in Los Angeles, though we have offices in Washington, London, Sydney and Paris."

"What the hell does a corporate lawyer do?" Dean leaned his elbows on the table, propping his linked fingers against his chin.

"Mergers. Acquisitions. Disputes." Castiel shrugged. "We represent many large multinational corporations."

"Sounds ..." Dean sought for something appropriate to say, and decided to go with honest. "...busy. How did you get the time off to come half way across the country to hang with Jess?"

"She asked," Castiel said simply, sipping his glass of wine. His nose wrinkled as he peered at the contents. Dean bristled on Bobby's behalf. There was nothing wrong with the wine. This city slicker lawyer was looking down his nose at everything.

"You dropped everything because Jess...asked?" Dean was incredulous. 

Castiel shrugged. "It was important."

Dean was mystified. "What was?"

Castiel paused. "Not for me to say."

"Not..for you to say?" Dean snorted. "Sure, Cas. Whatever." He picked up his beer and scowled at Sammy, mentally willing him to finish his damn conversation.

The meals were brought out, and Dean ploughed into his with relish. Castiel barely touched his before he had to take a phone call. He excused himself and headed outside. Dean could see his hunched figure through the wide picture windows before turning his attention back to Sam and Jess.

Jess was frowning down at her plate. "He's been working so hard lately. I was hoping he could leave it behind for a few days."

Dean chewed and swallowed a mouthful of lasagne before replying. "He would have to remove that stick up his ass first."

"He just takes a while to warm up to people, Dean," Jess chided, making him feel a little guilty. "He is my best friend and I love him to pieces and I'm worried about him."

"Sorry, Jess. And no offense, Sammy, but how come you and he..." Dean waved his fork tines at Jess.

She erupted in peals of laughter. "I'm not his type."

Dean winked. "I find that hard to believe."

"What she means-" the flat statement doused some of the merriment at the table. "Is that I am gay. But that notwithstanding, Jess is a sister to me. Closer than my own family ever was." Castiel returned to his seat. He fidgeted with his napkin, picking up his fork and spoon with precise motions. 

Sam just shook his head. Dean mouthed 'what?' to him and shrugged. Sam huffed a sigh.

 

Dean stood out on the back porch with a cup of tea in hand. The sweet summer breeze driifted over the fields. He leaned against the railing and studied the stars.

He became aware of voices above and realised that someone had just opened the balcony doors of the guest room. He could hear Jess and Castiel in soft conversation. He unashamedly eavesdropped with a faint grin.

"No, there is no one I have the slightest interest in dating."

The lawyer sounded impatient. Jess was imploring, but he missed half of what she said.

"No. His manners are deplorable. While he is quite acceptable physically, he seems to spend most of time filthy, and he doesn't seem to mind."

Dean's grin faded. He didn't have to guess who Jess had suggested. She had thoughtfully tossed his hat into the ring and the lawyer had stomped on it and kicked it a few times for good measure. He tossed the cold dregs of his tea out into the garden he had worked so hard to set up in the spring. The asshole. Sure, Dean was single. And not disinclined to date men. But not if the man was a stick up his ass, city lawyer. The last of what Castiel was saying floated down to him on a drift of cool air. 

"He is not sophisticated enough to tempt me."

Dean slammed the kitchen door shut for good measure.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean deals with his house guests...more or less.

The following day had Sam taking Jess and Castiel on a sightseeing tour. Dean begged off. For one, he had a lot of work to do at the garage. And two: the thought of spending an entire day crammed into the back seat of Sam's four wheel drive with the guy who thought he, Dean, was grubby, crude and unpleasant just made him twitch. Well...fine. Just fine. Dean had slammed out of the house the following morning without waiting for the others to wake up.  
Work kept him occupied and if the image of blue eyes watching him steadily haunted him several times, he chose to believe it was because the man had got under his skin. How dare he come here with his thousand dollar suits, hundred dollar haircut and look down his nose at his life! He loved this life. It curled around his soul and made him who he was, damn it. What made life in a big city any damn better?

The end of day had him heading wearily home, his hand aching where a bolt had slipped and the wrench had spun around, busting the skin of his knuckle. Dried blood collected in the grease smeared cut. He opened and closed it experimentally and winced. It was purpling into a bruise quite nicely.  
He pulled up in the front yard, beside the Explorer. Its normally pristine black was dust coated. Dean grinned. Sam must have taken his guests out to the quarry. He wondered if he had convinced the stuffy lawyer to strip off and take a swim. Somehow Dean doubted it.  
He headed into the house, straight for the kitchen. Through the window overlooking the backyard, he could see the three of them were enjoying sunset, Sam and Jess with beers in hand, Castiel with a glass of wine. Dean leaned his hands on the sink and smiled slightly. Sammy and Jess were a good match. They were warmly intimate with each other, holding hands, bare feet crossed at the ankles in matching postures.  
Dean took an opportunity to study Castiel's profile, while he was the most relaxed he had ever seen him. He had ditched the suit, wearing a dark blue polo shirt with dark pants. The guy was good looking. The hair Dean assumed was usually tidy, had settled into a kind of windswept sexy mess. His forearms were lean muscled, flexing as he lifted the wine to his lips. Lips that were pretty damn sinful surrounded by the faintest scruff of beard Cas hadn't yet shaved off.  
Dean pressed forefinger and thumb into his eyesockets until bright lights exploded behind his lids. What was he doing? No really. What? Having lusty thoughts over a guy who was an arrogant asshole? Nice going, Winchester. He shook his head.  
"Are you alright?"  
Dean groaned internally as the gravelly voice of the one person he didn't want to talk to, interrupted his reverie.  
"I'm fine." Dean dropped his hand, and shrugged as Castiel set down his empty glass.  
"Your hand. What happened?" Castiel frowned, nodding at the wound.  
"All good. Had worse. I will just clean it up."  
"Should I get Sam?"  
The note of concern in Castiel's voice had Dean pausing. He softened his sharp tone and couldn't help but give Castiel a half smile. He watched the man's gaze drop from his eyes to his lips and felt a curl of heat in his gut. He tamped down on that shit.  
"No. He's relaxing with Jess. Really, its all good." Dean opened the cupboard under the sink and yanked out the first aid kit he kept there. "I have cleaned myself up before."  
"You get hurt often in your line of work?"  
"Sure. I mean, not badly, but I have had a few raps across the knuckles and eggs on the head when I haven't paid enough attention." Dean stuck his hand under the faucet and turned on the tap. He hissed as cool water spilled over his hand. He winced as he pumped some of the industrial strength cleaner over his palm and carefully cleaned away the grime and dried blood. He yanked a few sheets of paper towel off the holder and pressed it against the swollen flesh where it oozed a little blood. He studied it carefully and scowled. His knuckle would be painful for a few days, probably stiff. That was going to make work a pain. He glanced up, realising Castiel hadn't moved, nor had he spoken.  
"You okay there, hoss?" Dean said drily. "A little blood doesn't make you feel faint?"  
Castiel frowned. "No. I was merely waiting to see if you required assistance with dressing your injury."  
"Don't talk much for a lawyer, do you?"  
"There are many different kinds of lawyers, Dean," Castiel said flatly.  
"A non-talkative one. That's a new one on me."  
"How many do you know, exactly?" An edge entered Castiel's voice.  
"Well...one." Dean grinned unashamedly, as he levered off the lid of the first aid kit with one hand. He pawed through the contents, pulling out antiseptic and a dressing.  
"Hardly a large basis for comparison."  
"I watch TV." Dean shrugged a shoulder.  
"Ahh yes. Television. Another accurate source of information."  
"You don't need to be so ...." Dean growled with annoyance, his voice trailing off. Jess's friend. Jess's friend, he kept telling himself.  
"So...what?" Castiel's shoulders stiffened, his mouth pressed in a thin line.  
"So much of an asshole about it." Dean slammed the antiseptic down with it's childproof cap. With two hands he had issues opening the damn things. With one hand aching like hell every time he clenched his fist, it was near on impossible now.  
"Oh for god's sake," Castiel snarled, and coming around the counter, he yanked the antiseptic away from Dean, twisted the cap off and wrapping his hand around Dean's wrist, pulled him to the sink.  
Dean's breath stuck in his throat. The lawyer was pretty strong for a guy who wore suits every day. And his annoyance at Dean flowed off him in waves. His eyes could have drawn sparks. When Dean drew in a sharp breath as the sting of the antiseptic caused his hand to twitch, Castiel's touch gentled. He released Dean's wrist, but kept his eyes down, studying the wound. He reached for a white pad of cotton from the kit to clean up the excess brown fluid. For a brief moment he was pressed against Dean's back. Dean felt a shiver slide up his spine. Hell.  
Castiel finished the clean-up of the wound. With efficient movements, he smoothed the dressing onto the back of Dean's hand, his thumbs pressing the sticky edges into place.  
Dean swallowed.  
This shouldn't be hot.  
It wasn't hot, damn it.  
The guy was being nice, even after Dean had been kind of a dick. That's it.  
Castiel was still holding onto Dean's lean, strong hand when his eyes met Dean's. And somewhere deep in his gut, Dean knew the last minute or so hadn't left Castiel any less affected. There was a flare of heat in the cool blue depths of the man's gaze, and his thumb kept brushing over the back of Dean's hand.

"Hey, you're home. The grill is good to go ..." Sam's voice trailed off. "Dean, are you alright?" His eyes went wide as he took in the makeshift first aid post.  
Castiel dropped Dean's hand as though ashamed and busied himself tidying up the packaging from the dressing and the soiled cloths.  
"Just fine, Sammy," Dean grinned at his brother. "Cas here was just putting a bandaid on an ouchie." He clapped Castiel on the shoulder, brushing past him to head to the stairs. "I'm just going to go clean up."  
Sam headed back out to the deck. Dean paused, turned.  
"Cas?"  
Castiel closed the lid and looked up at Dean, his expression schooled into equanimity again. "Yes?"  
"Thanks. For helping out." Dean held up his dressed hand.  
"You're welcome, Dean." Castiel nodded solemnly.

"Hey gorgeous, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Dean leaned forward and kissed Lisa affectionately on the lips as she stepped out of the car. He had shut off the lawnmower and swiped his forearm across his brow.  
She clasped her palms over his face and patted him in their old greeting. "I was heading out to the farm. Bobby wanted me to ask if you would drop in and check out his truck. It's running rough, whatever on earth that means."  
"No problem," Dean agreed easily.  
"Alright. I had better get going. Give me a hug." Lisa held her arms wide.  
"I'm sweaty and revolting, Lise," Dean swiped his palms down his chest, the fabric darkened in patches with his sweat.  
"Ben has, by turns, dribbled on, puked on, peed on and pooped on me. Your sweat? Least of the body leakages I have had."  
Dean's laugh rang over the grounds as he wrapped his old friend in a hug.  
"Okay, babe. Be good." Lisa patted him on the shoulders with both hands, and headed back to where she had parked.  
"Never!" Dean called after her, waving as she climbed into her little buzz bomb of a car that she refused to get rid of and he had to fix every couple of months.  
He leaned down to start the mower, a grin on his face. It faded slightly as he caught sight of a figure on the balcony. He wasn't sure, but he was certain that despite the fact Castiel was currently admiring the view toward the back of the house, he had been watching the interchange between him and Lisa.

"Seeya, Sammy. Don't leave the visit so long next time," Dean said gruffly, hugging his brother fiercely.  
"Sorry we can't stay. Exams are looming, y'know." Sam's mouth was downturned. "But Christmas? How about we make a week of it?"  
"I will have to check my social calendar," Dean said with a grin. "But I'm sure I can swing it."  
"I had better be in on that invite." Jess muscled in on the action and wrapped her arms around Dean's solid torso.  
"Yeah, I can put up with you." Dean kissed the top of Jess's head. "Safe flight, alright. Was good to see you again."  
Castiel appeared from the house, his tow suitcase in hand, bumping behind him as he studied the screen of his phone. The suit was back, as well as the tidily slicked back hair. His eyes were shaded by round rimmed shades. Approaching the car, he finished whatever he was texting and bent down to pick up his suitcase.  
Finally he turned to Dean and held out his hand. "Thank you for your hospitality. Your home is ... quaint."  
"Quaint huh?" Dean's jaw clenched, as he reached out and gripped Castiel's hand. "Sure. You know us country folk. We are all kinds of hospitable. Glad you didn't mind roughing it for a few days."  
"Dean," Sam said quietly.  
Castiel had already headed for the backseat, his head bent down toward his phone.  
Jess chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. "He's already back in his lawyer suit." She sighed sadly. Sam wrapped his arm around her shoulder.  
Dean jammed his hands into his pockets. "Sorry, Jess." He wrinkled his nose. "I was an ass."  
"Don't worry. We are used to it." Sam grinned and slapped his brother on the shoulder.  
"Okay, we had better go so we can catch our flight." Jess sighed sadly and stared over at the house. "I love this place."  
"Me too."  
Dean stood at the end of his driveway, his hands fisted in his pockets. He rose his hand in final farewell as Sam honked the horn.

He shut the front door. The place felt quiet. After three days of company, it felt a little strange. He pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge and headed for the back porch. He took a deep breath. Only three months until Christmas. He smiled. Yeah. That will be good.

 **A week later.**  
The phone rang with strident insistency. Dean squinted at the clock. Two am. Who the fuck called at two am? He picked up the device and peered at the display. Private number. It had better not be a damn prank call or he will rip their lungs out.  
"Hello?" he growled.  
"Mister Winchester?"  
"Yeah. Who's this?"  
"My name is Simon French. I'm a doctor at Stanford Hospital."  
"Yeah? What's Sammy done?"  
"I'm sorry to tell you that he is our Intensive Care Unit. He was shot during an attempted mugging this evening. He seems to be stable, but as his next of kin, we informed you as soon as possible."  
"What?" Dean swung his legs over the side of the bed. "What the hell are you saying?"  
"Your brother is fine, Mister Winchester. However, his wallet had two names to contact in case of emergency. We were unable to get hold of Ms Moore."  
"Yeah..no.." Dean scrubbed his hand over his face. "She's on a flight to Munich. Fuck. Okay. I will be there as soon as I can."  
"Very good, sir. Your brother has not yet regained consciousness, but he is stable."  
Dean gave over a few extra details, and hung up. He pressed his hands to his face. Shit. Sammy. What had happened?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel shows unexpected kindness. Dean gains a glimpse into his life.

Kansas was a world behind as Dean stared out of the window of his cab. The flight had been uneventful, the last minute purchase jamming him into cattle class. He hated flying. A crying kid two rows behind had given him a headache, the light turbulence had his stomach still uneasy. Lights flashed in epileptic inducing staccato as full dark took its hold. He had no chance to even take in the scenery even if he was in the mood. His fingers tapped a rapid rhythm on his jean clad thigh as he endured the stop start drive from the airport.   
Stanford Hospital was ablaze with light. A constant stream of emergency vehicles cycled through. Dean got out of the taxi, yanking out his duffel bag, hastily packed with clothes and toiletries. He paid the guy the equivalent of the GNP for a small country and strode toward the main building. 

“Sam?” Dean dumped his duffel and hesitantly approached the bed. Sam was hooked up to a variety of machines, his pale chest pasted with sensors, a swath of dressings covering the damage. His dark eyelashes were stark against the bruising under his eyes. His hair hung in limp strands over his brow. “Shit, Sammy. What did you do? I hope you weren’t dumb enough to try to fight back.”  
Dean yanked a chair over to the side of the bed and settled in.   
He wasn’t leaving until Sam awoke.

Castiel shoved his phone into his pocket after checking his messages. Hospitals always made him uneasy, but he had promised Jessica. To be fair, she barely had to implore him. He could hear her distress all the way from Germany and rearranged his schedule for the evening.   
A nurse typed rapidly on a computer interface with a forbidding frown.  
“I’m here to see Sam Winchester,” he declared in his emphatic way.  
“Are you family?”  
Castiel frowned. “No.”  
“Only family members can visit inside the ICU."  
“Look. Can you just tell Dean Winchester I am here?”  
“I’m sorry, sir. We are busy.”  
Castiel frowned, and typed rapidly on his phone.

Dean’s pocket buzzed. Tempted to ignore it, he nonetheless grabbed his phone, flipped open the device and read the text.  
“Sammy, I will be right back.” He gripped his brother's hand and stood.

"What are you doing here?" Dean said gruffly, blinking owlishly at the elegantly suit-clad man standing in the waiting room.   
Castiel turned, looking more like a damn model for a fashion magazine, than a lawyer who was swiftly becoming a pain in the ass.  
"Jessica contacted me when she got the news," he said in his mild way. "She asked if I would help."  
"I'm good," Dean muttered, running his hand through his hair. It stood up in rampant spikes.   
"No, Dean. You are far from 'good'. You look terrible."  
"My brother was shot," Dean snarled in reply. "Forgive me if I didn't comb my hair."  
"I was referring to the fact that you look like you have slept extremely poorly, I doubt you have eaten or moved from his bedside in the past...what? Eighteen or so hours?"  
"So?" Dean said belligerently.  
"He is being cared for here, yes? Out of danger?" Castiel stepped forward, tempering his voice calm and quiet.   
"He hasn't woken up," Dean's voice broke a little.   
"His body is recovering from the trauma of being shot, and the surgery. Sleeping is necessary and understandable."  
"I want to be here. He is not going to wake up without anyone here." Dean folded his arms across his chest.  
"Alright." Castiel nodded, and reached into his pocket. He withdrew a card and scribbled a number on it. "This is the number for a driver service. You will need to sleep at some point. And it would ease my mind and Jessica's if you would stay with me."  
"That's not-" Dean began.  
"How long do you plan on staying here?" Castiel interrupted.  
"I don't ..." Dean wearily rubbed the back of his neck. "Depends. I want to stay. Without Jess here, he has no one."  
"And I don't wish to cast aspersions on your financial situation, but an indefinite stay at a hotel will be extremely expensive.  
Dean blinked tiredly. Aspersions? Maybe the guy was a good lawyer. He was making sense.  
"Call the service. They will take you to my house. My housekeeper will let you in if I am not at home. Do you have a rental car yet?"  
"No. I hadn't ..."  
"You can borrow one of mine."  
One of his? One? How many cars did this guy have?   
Castiel checked his messages again and sighed, rubbing between his brows where a permanent line was etched. "I'm sorry. I have to go back to work."  
Dean glanced at his watch. It was seven pm. "Back to work? When do you sleep?"  
"Rarely," Castiel replied flatly. "Do we have an arrangement then?"  
"Yeah." Dean nodded. "Thanks. I really..." He rubbed his hand over his hair again, flattening the errant tufts. "Shit, Cas. This is really decent of you."  
"I assure you, it is no problem. My house is big enough. You won't even notice I'm there." Castiel nodded his farewell.   
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and watched the tense man depart.   
"That wasn't what I meant," he muttered. 

"Dean..." The murmur from Sam croaked out from a Sahara dry throat.  
"Sammy." Dean's booted feet crashed to the floor from where they were propped on the edge of Sam's bed. "Jesus. Sammy." Tears gathered in his eyes. He pressed the call button for the duty nurse. "Hey, buddy."  
"Really...hurt."  
"Yeah, you idjit." Dean gripped Sam's hand where it lay still on the sheets, avoiding the insertion point of the drip.   
"Guy had a gun."   
"Yeah, he did."  
"He was shaking so much, went off."  
The duty nurse bustled in. Dean had seen her before - plump and a little tired around the edges, she had been kind to Dean, giving him some yoghurt and a banana when lunch time rolled around. She shooed Dean out. "Scoot. Give me a moment with the patient here. I have paged the doctor. He will be here in a moment. Go splash some water and wake up those pretty green eyes." She gave Dean a kindly pat.  
"Sammy, I'm gonna let the nice lady have some quality time with you. I'm gonna be right outside."  
"Go get sleep," Sammy eyed him blearily. "Imma sleep here in a bit. Painkillers. Good. See you tomorrow."  
"See what the doc says, buddy. You got shot you know."  
"I noticed," Sam grinned faintly. "Bring me a beer when you come back."  
"Sure, I will smuggle one in."  
The nurse snorted. "Go have a shower, boy. You smell pretty bad."  
"So I have been told." Dean chuckled, feeling the tension easing from his shoulders.   
"Where're you staying?" Sam's voice was slurring a little with tiredness.  
"Jess lined it up. I'm staying with Cas."  
Sam made a noise that sounded like a laugh as his eyes drifted close. He murmured something that sounded like: "Be nice."  
"The guy works all the time. Pretty sure I won't even see him."  
"Mrf-hmmm." Sam murmured, and his breathing shifted back into heavy sleep.  
Dean scrubbed a hand over his face.   
The nurse smiled at him. "Go on, boy. We will take care of your brother."  
Dean nodded, and tugged his duffel up onto his shoulder. He pulled his phone and the card that was crumpled in his pocket. He checked the time. Ten pm. He called the number on the card.  
"Grey's Driving Service. How may I help?" The female voice was warm and friendly.  
"Uhh, hi. Castiel Novak said..."  
"Is that Mister Winchester?"  
"Yes, ma'am."  
"We have someone nearby. If you wait out of the front of the hospital, our car will pull into the drop off zone in about  ten minutes."  
"Huh. Good service."  
"How kind." He could almost hear her smile through the phone. "You have a good evening, sir. I hope your brother is doing well."  
"He is. Thanks." Dean was bewildered.

The car that picked him up was sleek, immaculate and black. The purr of the powerful engine made his mechanic's heart warm. He sat in the back, elbow resting on his canvas duffel. The seats were the softest leather he had ever felt. The driver had greeted him professionally, informing him that Mister Novak had taken care of everything, he was just to sit back and enjoy the ride.   
Dean leaned his head back on the rest and promptly fell asleep. 

"Mister Winchester. We are at your destination."   
Dean pressed his hand to his eyes. "Wow. I fell asleep. Sorry."  
"No problem, sir."   
Dean stared out of the window of the car. "Are you sure this is the right place?"  
The edifice of the house was impressive. Three stories. It looked like it took up half a city block. Security gates. It even had a damn driveway.  
"Yes sir. This is Mister Novak's home. He is at home and has buzzed you through already."  
"Great." Dean slowly opened the car door. "Thanks."  
"You're welcome, sir."  
Just how rich was Cas Novak?

Dean mounted the steps to the front door. It was opened before he could reach it. Expecting Castiel, he schooled his features into polite gratitude. But the guy standing there was a stranger to him.  
"Uhh, sorry. Is Cas at home?"  
"Yes, Mister Winchester. He is in his study and will join you shortly. He said he had some last minute work to finish up. I will show you to your room. My name is Jeffrey."   
"Right. Thanks...Jeffrey. Uhh. What do you do here?"  
"I'm the housekeeper, sir. Mister Novak asked me to remain until you arrived to see to your comfort, but I am normally only here during daylight hours. Mister Novak had to work late this evening, and was concerned you would arrive at an empty house."  
"That was ...kind of him."  
"Indeed." Jeffrey smiled at Dean. "Come along. I will show you to your room."  
Dean trailed after Jeffrey, staring wide eyed at the rooms he passed. It was so ... rich. And ... rich. No wonder he found Dean's home lacking if this is what he was used to. Wow.   
The room Dean was shown to had a massive bed and its own bathroom. Everything was in shades of smokey green and cream. The window looked out onto the back garden. A pool shimmered in the lights from the garden lantern. It was sure a different damn world.  
He dumped his duffel on the ground.  
Jeffrey stood in the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. "Mister Novak said to have a shower. A meal has been prepared for you both. If you head back down the stairs, then to the left, the dining room is at the end."  
"Left. End. Got it."  
Jeffrey closed the door and Dean was left alone. He sat on the bed for a moment, lowered his face to his hands and just took a few moments. Sammy was going to be okay. He knew it. But his stomach still churned after the shock of the past twenty four hours.  
The measure of his exhaustion was in his agreeing to stay with a guy who thought of him as nothing more than an uncouth, ill educated hick. He groaned as he levered himself upright. He needed that shower. He couldn't face the master of the house smelling like he had just crawled out from under the Impala after a ten hour workday.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and new friends.

“Hey. Cas.” Dean swiped his hands down his shirt. He was suddenly aware of the wrinkles, its buttersoft texture that spoke of its age and the jeans that fit like a glove that were pretty well worn at the knees.   
“Dean.” Castiel Novak turned from his position near the window. “I thought you might like something to eat before sleeping. I apologise for the presumption if you would rather sleep.”  
“No. This is good, Cas. Thanks.” Dean rammed his hands into his pockets, a familiar defensive gesture.  
Castiel gestured toward the table. Dean studied him as his attention was distracted. The suit coat and tie was gone. He wore a white shirt that was still crisp and white. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top button at his throat was undone.   
Dean was always a sucker for forearms.  
No. Stupid. Stop.  
“How is Sam?” Castiel sat, and with a precise snap, spread the white of his napkin over his lap.  
Dean sat opposite and awkwardly copied the gesture, though he didn’t see the point. Worse than food juice had dropped on these jeans.  
Within seconds, Jeffrey entered, a plate in either hand. He set one in front of Dean, as the guest, then Cas. A perfect square of golden cheese encrusted lasagna steamed from the plate. Despite himself, Dean smiled.   
“Thank you, Jeffrey. I appreciate your diligence this evening. I will clean up." Castiel nodded at Jeffrey.  
“Of course, Mister Novak. Is there anything else?”  
“No. Give my best to Hilarie and thank her for her forebearance.”  
“Thank you, sir. I will pass on your words.” Jeffrey poured the red wine into both glasses. Dean didn’t even get the chance to register his preference for beer. Jeffrey set down the bottle of wine with its neck cloth of white linen.   
“Goodnight.” Castiel farewelled his housekeeper.  
Dean picked up his fork and nodded awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, man. Thanks.”  
“You are most welcome, Mister Winchester.” Jeffrey bowed slight from the waist.  
When they were alone, Dean stared at Castiel. The lawyer had picked up his fork and sampled his first mouthful.  
“You have a butler.” Dean pointed his fork at Castiel.  
“I have a housekeeper,” Castiel corrected, picking up his glass of wine.  
“Semantics, man. You have someone who looks after your shit. He’s the Alfred to your Bruce Wayne.”  
“I’m not Batman, Dean.” Castiel's brows rose. The corner of his mouth tucked in in a faint echo of a smile. Dean's smile broadened. The guy had a sense of humour. Buried deep. But it was there.  
“Could have fooled me.” Dean leaned back in his chair, his lasagna still untouched. “No wonder you thought my place a cute little shack when you were sitting on this palace.”  
“I liked your house, Dean.” Castiel met Dean’s gaze with a suddeness that made Dean pause. “Very much.”  
“Whatever you say, Batman,” Dean said goodnaturedly, and dug into his lasagna. And immediately mentally apologised to Bobby. It was the best damn combination of cheese, pasta and meat he had ever had in his mouth. He closed his eyes and groaned. It was a few moments before he realised the room was silent. He opened his eyes. Castiel was frowning at him.  
“Are you quite alright?” Castiel queried, his head tilting slightly to the side.  
“Oh man. Jeffrey is a fucking genius. This lasagna is incredible.” Dean shovelled up another forkful, the cheese separating in delicate golden strands.  
“I will pass on your compliments.” Castiel took a forkful himself, and despite wearing a white shirt that practically begged a mess to be made of it, he ate without mishap.  
“So this is all yours, huh?” Dean asked, glancing around the painting festooned walls of the dining room.  
“For my sins.”  
Dean frowned. “What does that mean?”   
Castiel put down his fork, and swiped at his mouth with his napkin. He picked up his wine glass. Dean studied the precise motions, and guessed the man was trying to delay the reply to his impulsive statement. Dean reluctantly set down his own fork. And waited.  
“This house serves a purpose.”  
“Huh.” Dean rubbed his chin with a forefinger. “If it’s to impress guys like me, then you count put a great big check mark in that column.”  
Dean watched Castiel’s mouth quirk slightly. Was that a smile?  
“Maintaining a house of this size to impress good looking men from Kansas seems a little presumptuous.”  
Dean grinned, picking up his fork again. “So you think I’m good looking?”  
“Beneath the dirt.” The flat reply had Dean laughing.   
He wiped away a tear, and stabbed into his dinner again. Hauling up a massive forkful, he bit in. He gestured with his fork at Castiel, who waited, eyeing him curiously. He chewed, pausing halfway to groan again and sigh at the ceiling, before swallowing.   
“You are an asshole, Cas. But when you aren’t wearing a suit, you aren’t so bad.”   
Castiel picked up his own fork. It hovered briefly, indicating surprise on the part of its wielder. He frowned.   
“Thank you, Dean. I think.”   
The next few minutes were silent as both men applied themselves to the task of eating their dinner. To his surprise, Dean had tried the wine and found it...palatable. It even complimented the meal, as though it had been cooked with the meal rather than served as an afterthought.   
He leaned back in his chair.   
“I gotta sleep. Sorry. Bad house guest. But I figure you have to work anyway right?”  
Castiel wiped his mouth with the napkin and stood. “Quite right. I hope you sleep well, Dean." He paused. "Ah. Before I forget." He dug into his pockets and brought out a silver key ring with a simple mobius strip insignia on the tag, several keys and a card with numbers printed on it. "The keys to various doors and the alarm code and gate code if you arrive and no one is here. Jeffrey arrives around eight, leaves at eleven. Returns at three and then leaves around seven." He held out the items toward Dean.   
"Got it." Dean took them, tucking them into his own pocket.   
"And this..." Castiel took out another key. A car key. "..belongs to my '74 Ford Mustang. You are welcome to use it while you stay."  
Dean hesitated. "Cas, I can just catch a taxi." His protest was half hearted. The guy had already bent over backwards for a complete stranger he didn't even like very much.   
Castiel scowled his annoyance. "It's fine, Dean. It's just a car. If it makes you feel better, you can be responsible for filling it with petrol."  
Dean reluctantly took the key. He held out his hand toward Castiel. The other man glanced down at his palm, then back up to Dean's face. Dean found it hard to gauge his expression. He was the most guarded person Dean had ever met. Castiel took Dean's hand, a firm, warm grasp that sent the faintest shiver down Dean's spine.   
"Thanks. Really." Dean studied Cas' steady gaze, wondering if the guy felt even the faintest hint of what seemed to shudder through Dean every time they touched, however innocently. He realised he was still hanging onto Cas' hand and dropped it.   
"Sleep well, Dean."   
Dean headed out, actually looking forward to sleeping on the cloud soft mattress that beckoned from upstairs.

Castiel poured himself a shot of whiskey into a crystal tumbler. Silently, he stood before the windows overlooking his backyard. The pool he never had time to use sparkled beckoningly. He took a sip of the liquor and it burned on its way down. His desk held a multitude of files and he sighed.  
He thought of the man currently sleeping upstairs in his guestroom and once again opened and closed his right hand. It tingled. Still. A reaction he had never had to anyone. And it was with a mechanic from the middle of nowhere. Castiel groaned and pressed his brow to the cool glass.   
He was a class A, prize fool.

Dean headed into the hospital ward having had the best night's sleep in months. The bed. Oh that bed. He never wanted to leave its comfortable depths. But he had hauled himself up. Jeffrey had put a huge plate of bacon and eggs in front of him, cheerfully telling him that Mister Novak thought he would need the sustenance as he would be at the hospital all day.   
Before departing, he had been handed a calico bag.   
Jeffrey smiled and said, "Supplies for your brother. Food not cooked by the appalling hospital catering, some toiletries and so on."  
Dean had been speechless. Who were these people?  
He headed for Sam's room and heard him talking to someone. Rounding into the room, he studied the slender young man lounging beside the bed. He was sleek and pale, with a wicked quirk to his lips while he laughed at something Sam had said. His dark hair was slicked tidily back. He wore blue scrubs.  
Sam smiled brightly when he spied Dean. "Hey! This is Michael. Friend of mine from university. He dropped in for a visit before starting his shift. Michael, this is my brother Dean."  
"Planning on being a doctor too, eh?" Dean said easily, dropping the bag on the side table.   
"Doing my best." Michael grinned charmingly and held out his hand. Dean leaned over the bed to shake it in greeting. "Sam never mentioned his brother was so handsome."  
Dean rose a brow. "Nice bedside manner there, Doc."  
Michael chuckled. "Required reading."  
Dean pulled up a chair, Michael returned to his. "So tell me all the embarrassing stories about Sammy here," Michael demanded, folding his hands over his belly.   
"Well, there was the time that we stole a six pack of beer from the store and - "  
"Dean..." Sam groaned, covering his eyes with a hand.  
"Shh, Sammy. Let the adults talk." Dean patted Sam's knee and grinned.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean meets someone of apparent import to Castiel.

"Hi there. My name is Charlie." The red headed woman bounced into the room. "I'm your beck and call girl for the next hour."  
"Our...what?" Dean stared at her, confusion reigning.   
"Mr Novak sent me over. Any errands you need, plus a little chat with the doc to find out what Sam here will need once he gets released."  
"I was going to go back to the apartment ... " Sam was bewildered.   
"You got shot, Sammy." Dean repeated with a sudden frown. "For at least a couple weeks you are going to need someone seeing to you until it gets better. Plus you can't drive yourself to rehab."  
"Tall, blonde and dreamy has a point." Charlie beamed at Dean, then faced Sam again. "And Castiel Novak is a difficult guy to say no to. Don't see why you would. His house is outstanding. Not that he spends much time there. Poor guy works all the freaking time."   
"Dean?" Sam entreated for intervention.  
Dean just gave a half smile and a shrug. “Cas is pretty persistent. He’s just as likely to come down here and talk you into it. And the guy is really busy and all.”  
Sam groaned.  
Charlie clapped her hands, and smiled brightly. “Excellent. It’s all arranged then. I will get a start on your paperwork then. Pretty sure we can have you out of here by this afternoon.” She strode out on long, lanky limbs.  
Sam just looked at Dean. “This is Castiel, right? The guy who kicked back and relaxed at the farm?”  
“I don’t know as he relaxed all that much,” Dean said uncomfortably.   
“Sure he did. Well, I have to say, I really appreciate it. You would hate staying on my couch.”  
Dean’s nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Yeah. Well, Cas has these mattresses. Like lying on a cloud, Sammy.” He sighed. “That’s one thing I’m going to miss.”  
“How long will you stay?” Sam asked quietly.  
Dean met his gaze steadily. “Until you can fend for yourself, Sammy.”  
“I can look after myself most of the time, y’know.” Sam grinned affectionately.  
“Indulge me.”   
Sam rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I feel like I’m eight years old.”  
“We need you back up and going, Sammy. Someone has to graduate university in this family.”  
“I’m on break!” Sam protested. “Exams aren’t that far away and, alright, the painkillers make me a little fuzzy, but I can still sit them with one arm.”  
“Oh, I will make sure you study, kid.”  
“I’m only four years younger than you, Dean.”  
“Kid.” Dean repeated emphatically.  
“Bitch.”  
“Jerk.”

 

Later than afternoon, after Charlie had charmed the doc into an early release, with promises of a return on the morrow, Dean shut the door of the Ford and moved quickly to the back seat door. He opened it and held out his hand. Sam gripped his hand hard and with a grunt and wince that had him going white. He   
Jeffrey stood at the top of the stairs, holding the door open, an expression of concern on his face..  
"You must be Jeffrey?" Sam asked, his hand pressed to the injury that still pained him.   
"Yes, Mister Winchester. Welcome to Mister Novak's home. He apologises he can't be here to greet you himself, but he has been caught in meetings. He will be home as soon as he can. We have arranged for Sam to be in the downstairs bedroom. Mister Novak felt that your brother would find the journey up and down the stairs a bit jarring.”  
“You rock, Jeffrey.”  
“Thank you, Mister Winchester.” Jeffrey’s tone was formally polite, though his smile was genuine.  
“When will Cas be home?” Dean asked, going for nonchalance.   
“He asked me to inform him when you were home. He was going to try to finish up some work here after dinner.”  
Dean couldn’t help the faintest smile that curved his lips. 

“My apologies for my lateness.” Castiel strode swiftly into the room.   
Dean hurriedly stood up from his seat, caught Sam’s curious look and grimaced at him. “Hey...Cas,” he muttered.  
“Castiel.” Sam rose a little slower than his brother, a smile on his face as he held out his hand toward their host. “I have to thank you very much for putting me up. I really appreciate it. You are as kind as Jess always says.”   
“You are more than welcome, Sam. Jessica is my family. I would do anything for her.” Castiel shook Sam’s hand, his expression softening a little. “And how is the wound?”  
Sam pressed a hand to where the dressing sat beneath his button down shirt. “I won’t lie. Not my best moment. But I do alright if I don’t do too much.”  
“Then you must rest. I understand from Dean that you are studying for your exams at the moment. I have arranged for a study to be set up. If there are any books you require from home, I can arrange for Charlie to pick them up.” Castiel took his seat again.  
“You don’t have to - “ Sam began, slowly lowering himself back down.  
“I can do it -” Dean interrupted, hurriedly sitting.  
Castiel’s gaze met Dean’s. “By all means. It was merely an offer.”  
Dean flushed slightly. 

The dinner began quietly, but not for long. As Dean consumed another glass of red wine with dinner, he grew more gregarious, telling stories to Cas of their exploits when they were kids. When Sam got his vengeance by telling the story of the time Dean finally got the old motorcycle from the barn fixed then promptly crashed it outside the house of the young man he had been trying to impress all summer, he actually drew a rare smile from Castiel.   
Sam excused himself from the table after an hour, a little pale. Dean stood too, but Sam waved him back down a little impatiently. His voice a little tight as he told Dean to stay, he would be fine.   
Dean lapsed into silence, turning the stem of his wine glass in his fingers.  
“Dean.” Castiel leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Are you worried about Sam?”  
“No. Of course not.” Dean glanced up at Castiel quickly. Hesitated. Grimaced. “Yeah.”  
“He was unlucky, Dean.”  
“I think that worries me more than anything.”  
“There are probably more guns per capita back where you are from.”  
Dean scowled. “And we know how to use them, damn it. Not shake like a boy getting his first kiss.”  
“Kisses don’t do as much damage.” Castiel lifted his brows.  
“Depends on who is doing the kissing.” The words were out before Dean could stop them, and he paused, horrified. He ran a hand through his hair, rumpling the strands he had tried to comb neatly into place.  
Castiel’s bright gaze sharpened. He ran a forefinger thoughtfully around the rim of his wine glass.  
Blue eyes clashed with green.   
“Sorry. My mouth sometimes activates before my brain.” Dean broke the tense silence.  
“I like your mouth, Dean. Very much.” Cas’ held Dean’s gaze for a moment longer, before it dropped to Dean’s mouth.   
“I ...uh…” Dean scrubbed his jaw with his fingers, feeling a flush pink his cheeks and warmth coil deep in his belly.   
Dean could have hugged Jeffrey when he appeared in the doorway.   
“My apologies for the interruption, Mister Novak. But Mister Roché is here.”  
Dean couldn’t tell how Castiel felt about the new arrival. His handsome features were now schooled into impassivity.  
“Please show Balthazar in.” Castiel rose from his chair and did up the jacket button he had undone for the dinner.   
A sleek, elegant man entered. A little older than Cas. His suit probably cost more than Dean’s monthly income.   
“Castiel.” The warmth in Balthazar’s voice had Dean’s eyes narrowing. His accent was slightly foreign, though with a definite overlay of Los Angeles.   
“Balthazar. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Castiel held out his hand. Dean watched Balthazar clasp Cas’ hand with both of his, then his dark gaze ticked briefly over to Dean. Dean’s brows rose.   
“Oh, I was just passing by. We haven’t seen you at the club.” Balthazar kept hold of Castiel’s hand. “But now I see that you have a house guest.”  
“Yes. Dean Winchester, this is Balthazar Roché, one of the partners in my firm.”  
Dean levered himself upright and stepped around the table.  
“Ahh, Winchester. Your brother is marrying Ms Moore, yes?”  
Dean nodded. “Yeah. That’s about right.”  
“And you are staying here.” Balthazar’s smile was tight as he glanced between Castiel and Dean.  
“Dean’s brother was injured badly and he is here taking care of him while Jessica is away in Germany,” Castiel said easily, retrieving his hand from Balthazar and sliding it into his pockets.   
“How kind you are to open your home, Castiel.” Balthazar folded his hands before him. “And what do you do, Mister Winchester?”  
“I’m a mechanic.” Dean tipped up his chin, as a faint smirk curved Balthazar’s lips.   
“A mechanic. I’m surprised. Castiel is usually very particular with allowing service personnel into his home.” Balthazar held up his hands in entreaty. “But you seem perfectly... charming.” A hard look was given Dean.   
“Yeah well.” Dean rammed his hands into his pockets, unconsciously mirroring Cas. “I try to wash my hands before touching the furniture.”  
“Balthazar…” Castiel said sharply.   
“Ahh, I am merely in jest, Castiel. Take that frown off your face, my darling.”  
Dean jerked faintly and mentally cursed himself. ‘My darling’? Disappointment he didn’t want to feel snarled up the heat that had grown.  
“Time I hit the hay. You know us country folk. Sun down to sun up.” Dean smiled brightly at the two men. He had never felt more out of place. If the riches of the house he was standing in wasn’t enough, the elegant Balthazar should have told him the rest.   
“Dean…” Castiel tried to gain his attention, but he didn’t want to give it.  
“Quite alright, Mister Winchester.” Balthazar held out his hand toward Dean as he passed. Dean took it reflexively. He might have taken a small pleasure in tightening his hand just a little. He enjoyed the slight wince even more.   
“Might see you tomorrow, Cas.” Dean said, glancing briefly at the troubled face of his host.   
Dean strolled slowly out, maybe emphasising his bow-legged swagger just a little.   
He paused just outside the door.  
“Cas?” He heard the amused Balthazar say.   
Castiel’s reply was low, and Balthazar laughed. Dean dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. The next couple of weeks were going to be hell.   
Sammy had better get his arse better and soon.   
Dean wanted to go home.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> because I had to write this before I went to bed.  
> Pride and Prejudice is such slow burn, I hope you aren't disappointed by lack of sexy times thus far. I assure you, they are planned!

Dean finished yanking the butter soft ancient grey shirt over his head. He padded downstairs in bare feet, a jaw cracking yawn barely touching on the fact he had barely slept. His brain wouldn't stop churning.   
Used to the process now, he headed for the dining room where Jeffrey always had coffee brewing. Scratching his chest, he hip bumped the door and stepped into the room, expecting to greet Jeffrey. He paused, his breath hissing out. Castiel was seated at the head of the table, coffee mug in hand, fashionable steel rimmed glasses perched on his nose, skimming through handful of white papers.   
"Good morning, Dean," Castiel set down the papers and tugged off the glasses. "Coffee?"  
Dean mentally groaned. That gravelly voice first thing in the morning was too much for his raw nerves. So he settled for snark. "Had a late night?"  
"Yes," Castiel replied flatly, pouring a cup from a French press sitting on a ceramic plate. He held it out for Dean.   
"Surprised to see you here." Dean accepted the fragile cup and leaned against the back of a chair, not willing to sit yet. He clutched the coffee in both hands before taking a fortifying sip. "They must crack the whip hard at your office."  
"They do," Castiel replied drily. He glanced at his watch and sighed. "I had better get going." He stood, and the edge of his sleeve caught a file. It tumbled onto the carpet between them. Dean set down his coffee and knelt to gather up the spilled papers. His eye was caught by the name of the firm on top of the page.   
"'Novak, Roche and Barnes'?" Dean glanced up at Castiel where he also knelt, gathering the papers together. "You are the 'Novak' in 'Novak, Roche and Barnes'?"  
"Yes." Castiel held out,his hand for the papers Dean held.  
"I thought... " Dean shook his head before straightening up. "Never mind."  
"What? Is that how you see me, Dean? As a lawyer?" There was a sudden note of challenge in Castiel's voice that disconcerted Dean.  
"No! Well yes." Dean gestured at Castiel. "The suits. The ties. The paperwork. Power lunches. Guys like Balthazar as your friends. That's who you are."  
Castiel set the papers carefully on the table and took a step forward. His eyes were flashing with some unexpected emotion. "I said last night that I liked your lips, Dean. Does that sound like the words of a lawyer? Or rather of just a man?"  
"I ...uh..." Dean swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as he dropped his gaze from those compelling blue eyes to the sinful lips. The lips that were shaping words he could barely comprehend. He looked up at Castiel again, reached out with both hands, gripped him by the jacket lapels and yanked him forward. He felt Castiel's hands press against his chest, then fist the fabric.  
Awkward at first they bumped noses, clashed teeth, but Dean tilted his head and tasted of Cas. Coffee, toast and whatever it was of Cas that made the man suddenly moreish.   
Dean groaned low in his throat and slid one arm around Cas' lower back, the other into his hair. Heat slammed into his gut and he felt a decent bulge pressing against his thigh where he held Cas against him.  
Dean was the one who broke the kiss. Gasping for breath he drew back a little, but still held Cas. For his part, Cas had slid his hands up inside Dean's shirt and had splayed his hands over his back.  
"You don't kiss like a lawyer," Dean muttered, taking another steadying breath.  
"Since you only know one lawyer that is hardly complimentary on my part." Despite his calm intonation of the reply, Castiel's eyes were slightly dazed and a genuine smile, the first Dean had seen, crossed his lips. It took Dean's breath away. His hand slid from the back of Cas' head to his cheek. His thumb brushed over Cas' kiss swollen lips.  
"You want a compliment?" Dean asked softly, searching Castiel's face, enjoying the hint of rare emotion shown there. At his question, there was a hint of wariness. He wondered, not for the first time, who had hurt Cas. He replaced his thumb with his lips. This kiss was gentle, testing, tasting. A glide of his stubbled chin against Cas' smooth skin. His thumb now traced Cas' jaw. 

A discrete cough had them breaking apart. Dean dropped his arms, Castiel stepped back. Dean awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed to have Ben caught necking like a teenager and realised he had thoroughly mussed up Cas. The man's well groomed hair was sexily tangled. His tie was askew and his mouth was reddened, even the faintest scuff mark from his beard. And he was carefully buttoning his jacket over what had felt like a pretty nice erection to Dean's mind.  
He shared a heated glance with the man, not bothering to hide how Cas had affected him, but hidden from Jeffrey's knowing gaze by the table.  
"The car is here, sir," Jeffrey said mildly, holding out Castiel's suitcase.  
Castiel broke their gaze, a faint flush on his cheek. "Have a good day."   
Dean almost laughed. Sudden switch to prim and proper and all good manners from the guy who had kissed him like that. Dean rubbed his forefinger over his lips, a faint smile curving them, before he glanced up, to see Jeffrey watching him with amusement.  
"Would you like breakfast, Mister Winchester?"  
Dean wasn't certain but he thought there was a glimmer of approval on Jeffrey's face.  
"Load me up, Jeffrey. I'm starving." He picked up his coffee again and licked his lips. This was his new favourite flavour.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble on the horizon

Dean hovered over Sam as he sat slowly at the restaurant table with only the faintest grimace. He sat opposite, concern etched on his features. He had yanked his brother out of his studying to have lunch with actual natural light and real humans rather than the beep of a microwave. He had spent the morning fidgeting, trying to read, hit the pool for a few laps, anything to get out of what might have been the epic mistake of kissing Castiel Novak.  
"You alright, Sammy?"  
"Stop fussing, Mum." Sam scowled.  
"I only know you are really hurt because you aren't bitching."  
"Bite me."  
"Ahh, the Winchester boys." A cheery voice interrupted their argument. "How's things, Sam? Still lurching?"  
"You know it."  
Michael gestured to the spare seat at their table. "Can I join you? It would make a pretty damn average day into something nice to have lunch with two such handsome gentlemen."  
Sam rolled his eyes. "Sure, Michael. Take a seat."   
Even though blue eyes had occupied his thoughts all morning, Dean had to admit the easy flirtation Michael provided was a relief in comparison with Castiel's inscrutability. The conversation flowed easily until Sam mentioned they were staying with Castiel Novak in reply to Michael's query.   
All of Michael's smiles sombered.   
"You alright, man?" Dean asked, leaning forward.   
"Yeah. Look, Castiel Novak is ..." Michael scrubbed a forefinger over his brow. "Well I’m not a fan.”  
“Why not?” Sam cocked his head. “He seems pretty decent. And Jess adores him.”  
Michael held out his hands. “Look, hey, it’s all good, right? Not trying to change your mind on that. Guess he approves of you marrying Jess. But he was a little touchier when it comes to his own blood. I was engaged to his sister a couple years back, but uhh, it didn’t work out.” Michael shrugged.  
Dean frowned. “What happened?”   
Michael cast his gaze to the table top and grimaced. "I met Anna in senior year. We got engaged in my first year of med school.” He shrugged again. “Castiel didn’t approve. I guess because I came from nothing and couldn’t add to the Novak name.”  
“That doesn’t sound like Castiel,” Sam protested. “Come on, Michael.”  
“Hey, it is what it is. He sat me down. Offered me a fortune to leave Anna alone.”  
“Did you take it?” Dean asked softly.  
Michael shook his head. “No. But Anna left me anyway. I guess he figured out a way to get to her.”  
“Damn.” Dean shook his head, pity for the guy’s plight. Castiel Novak might have turned his brain to scrambled mush with a kiss, but he was apparently still an elitest snob. Pity. Dean fidgeted with the paper napkin underneath his unused knife. He tore the paper into little chunks. It took him a moment to realise that Sam had tried to get his attention.   
“Not feeling so good, Dean.” Sam had gone a little pale.   
“Yeah, right.” Dean swiped his mouth with the napkin.   
“Take care of your brother.” Michael picked up his coffee, smiling brightly at them both.  
“Sure will.” Dean nodded.

Sam was quiet on the ride home. He was unconsciously rubbing the edge of the dressing, staring out of the window.   
“All good, Sammy?”  
“Castiel has a lot of influence, doesn’t he?”  
“Huh?” Dean shifted in his seat a little, looking askance at his brother. “What are you talking about?”  
“What if he doesn’t want me to marry Jess?”   
“You guys have been engaged for ages.” Dean tightened his hands on the steering wheel, staring out at the traffic.  
“Yeah, but we haven’t set a date or anything.”  
“So? You are waiting until you both graduate.”  
“What if he decides a farm boy from Kansas isn’t good enough?”  
“Then he’s an ass. You really think Jess will just drop you? I mean, really?”  
“I guess.” Sam shifted uneasily in his seat. “Just that Michael -.”  
Dean gritted his teeth. “I won’t let Castiel Novak break you up because your last name doesn’t have a multitude of zeroes after it.”

Dean pulled the car into its parking spot in the garage. He had dropped Sammy off at the entrance, before heading around to the side. He sat in the vehicle for a moment staring down at his hands, his calloused, scarred hands, in his lap.   
Castiel Novak was confusing the everliving fuck out of him. One moment arrogant and elitist, the next, kissing him like the fact his hands were regularly grease stained, didn’t matter. He stared at his hands.  
They were calloused, yeah. And scarred. But the grease stains had been eased out with frequent showers and his break from the garage. He clenched his hands again.   
Balthazar Roche calling Castiel ‘my darling’. That hadn’t escaped his notice. There was something there. Some history, or future unspoken. He felt it in his gut. The poisonous glances that Balthazar had given him. Castiel’s mollifying after his departure.   
The kiss had been an anomaly. A rich man slumming it.   
Dean had to get back home. This place was messing with his head.

“Well hello there, Dean.”  
Dean closed his eyes. The voice was unfortunately familiar.  
Balthazar flowed ...that was the only word for it … ‘flowed’ to upright.   
“Mister Roche. An unexpected pleasure,” Dean said drily, setting his leather jacket on the back of the chair.   
The dining room was quiet. Jeffrey wasn’t on call yet. The house echoed with quiet. Sam had gone to his room. And Cas was wherever Cas was.  
“Oh, I’m sure the pleasure is all Castiel’s.” Balthazar quirked a half smile at Dean.   
Dean regarded him steadily.   
“So my partner seems to think that he wants to slum it with a mechanic from the midwest.” Balthazar crossed his arms over his chest. “I thought I would do that kind thing and give you the heads up as to Castiel’s ‘M.O.’” Balthazar air quoted.  
“For a lawyer you are an idiot,” Dean said flatly.  
“Bless you, Dean.” Balathazar smiled like a shark. “I think you just sneezed a pile of shit over a situation you didn’t understand.”  
“How are you even here?” Dean snarled, anger ruffling what little calm he had left.  
“You didn’t think Castiel would let his partner… his REAL partner, go without a key?”  
Dean dangled the key from his fingertips. “Seems to be going around.”  
Balthazar chuckled. “You are just a distraction, Winchester.”  
“I’m a house guest, Roche.” Deach stood his ground, tucking keys and other hand into his pockets into an insolent stance.  
“Castiel is partial to roughing it. And you are just his sort.” Balthazar sipped of his champagne. “Good looking. Good with your hands….with just that hint of vulnerablity. He can play that like a violin.” Dean was given a sympathetic glance.  
Dean’s lip curved into a faint snarl. “I’m nobody’s musical instrument.”  
Balthazar laughed and stepped closer to Dean, towering over him. “Like a fucking violin. He’s kissed you already, right?”  
“No.” Dean protested. “I kissed…” He clenched his jaw, shutting up.  
“No you didn’t. He made it think like it was your idea.” Balthazar reached out and slid his fingertip down Dean’s jaw.   
Dean jerked back. “Fuck off.”   
Balthazar held up his hands in surrender, then lowered them. “Go home, Winchester. You don’t belong here.” He smiled smugly. “You can’t even afford the price of entry.”  
“I plan to head home, Roche.” Dean snapped, taking another step back. “This world of yours is poison.”   
“Good boy.” Balthazar saluted him with his glass.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pride and prejudice clash...

Sam had gone to his temporary office to study after dinner. Dean had taken a beer out to the terrace overlooking the pool and seated himself on one of the cushioned lounge chairs. The moon glowed high in the sky, casting wan light over the tidily kept yard. He looked up. No stars. He missed the stars. Back home there was nothing but stars in the night skies. Billions upon billions. Different world.  
“I apologise I missed dinner.”  
Dean lowered the bottle from his lips. He closed his eyes briefly. “All good, Cas. Don’t sweat it.”  
A jacket was tossed on the back of the loungeseat next to him and Castiel lowered himself down. He sighed and leaned his head back on the cushioning. Despite the wariness and simmering anger of his confrontation with Balthazar, Dean couldn’t help the spear of sympathy. Castiel looked tired. Dark shadows scored beneath his eyes. His hair was mussed as though fingers had run through it several times. Dean clenched his hand. He wanted to run his fingers through Castiel’s hair. Dumb.  
“Long day, huh?” Dean took another deep drink of his beer.  
“Yes.”  
Dean fidgeted with the bottle, tearing the label off in little strips.  
“Sam’s doing a lot better,” Dean said quietly. “I was thinking we would be out of your hair in a couple of days.”  
“You were never in my hair, Dean. It has been … nice having you both stay here.” Castiel opened his eyes and studied Dean. His eyes were pale in the moonlight. “I would like to discuss this morning, if you are amenable.”  
Dean swallowed against the sudden dryness of his mouth. He kept his tone even. “It’s alright, Cas. Don’t sweat it. Heat of the moment. That kind of thing.”  
Castiel frowned. “That wasn’t what I meant. It was a hot moment, but not one that I regretted. In fact, I would very much like to see you more.”  
Dean clenched his jaw. “I don’t think that is a good idea, do you?”  
“Why? Because you are just a mechanic and I’m … “ Castiel waved his hand around him. “...all of this?”  
Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Just a mechanic?” His voice dropped dangerously.  
“Dean…” Castiel stood hurriedly. “Look, you have to admit our situations are very different. But I find myself …” He pressed the heel of his hand to his brow. “I find myself attracted to you. Our kiss this morning was unlike anything …” His voice trailed off.  
“Anything you expected from a guy who has grease under his nails?”  
“Be reasonable, Dean.” Castiel protested.  
“Be reasonable? Me?” Dean jerked to his feet, setting the bottle on the low table with a clatter. It tilted, then tipped, spilling the contents over the flagstones. “That’s awfully rich coming from you.”  
“What do you mean?” Castiel had gone pale, his shoulders stiff.  
“Splitting up your sister and Michael. Offering him money to disappear because his name wasn’t good enough. That’s lowest of the low. I swear, if you interfere with Sam and Jess’s relationship, you can sue the hell out of me because I plan on beating you within an inch of your life.” Dean stalked forward, even though he wasn’t much taller than Castiel, he loomed in his old army coat that broadened his shoulders. “And I can do without you screwing up my life. I don’t give a damn whether you have this house, your bank accounts and those goddamn beautiful cars. Balthazar was kind enough to come here and fill me in on your MO. Stay away from me. Stay away from Sam. You would be the last person on this planet I would ever consider getting involved with.”  
Castiel swayed backward, but did not step back. He stared silently at Dean for a long while, and nodded stiffly. “As you wish.”  
“We will be out of here in the morning.” Dean ignored the sudden look of pain that had flashed over Castiel’s face.  
Castiel just nodded, tucked his hands into his pockets and turned away as Dean went inside. 

 

Dean pressed his fist to his gut. It ached. He felt like hell. The look on Castiel’s face when Dean had accused him of bribery had shredded him. But what’s done is done. He can’t take it back now. Even if he wanted to, he doubted that an apology would fix anything.  
He linked his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.  
He wanted to go home.  
Badly.  
This place sucked.


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A letter

Sam had told him to go home a few days after they had left Castiel’s. His brother had tried to get him to discuss why they had left early, but Dean had clammed up. Dean flew out the day before Jess got home.  
He stepped gratefully into his little house. His plain, wonderful little house. Where everything was real. And honest. And a little quiet.  
Dean never spoke to Castiel. He had farewelled Jeffrey with a handshake. The housekeeper seemed disappointed but said good bye with a handshake and the best breakfast Dean had ever had. He had given back the keys with the faintest hint of regret.

Dean slid out from under the truck and wiped his hands on the pants of his coveralls.  
“Hey Dean!” The feminine voice echoed around his workshop.  
Dean grinned. “Back here,” he called.  
Booted feet tapped on the stained cement floor. And a pair of long legs in knee high boots stopped next to the trolley.  
“Hey Lise.” Dean beamed up at Lisa. She helt out a hand and he gripped it, yanking himself upright with a groan.  
“When are you going to get yourself an apprentice, Dean?” Lisa steadied him.  
“When you apply for the manager position at Sleepy Ridge Inn.”  
LIsa wrinkled her nose. “Here’s your mail.”  
Dean took the stack of envelopes and groaned. “Bills, bills and more bills. Three week’s vacation was not helpful to my bottom line.”  
“Not all bills,” Lisa leaned back against the hood of the Mazda he still had to service.  
The other white envelopes scattered on the floor as Dean clutched the single envelope in thick ivory paper. His name and address was handwritten in a tidy print, as was the return address.  
“Who is it from?”  
Dean didn’t answer. He ran his thumb under the sticky seal, leaving a smear of grease. He pulled out the sheets of thick paper. Two. Both with the letterhead of Novak, Roche and Barnes.

Dean.

Do not be concerned that by my writing to you, I am planning to renew our acquaintance. I merely wished to address the accusations that you laid at my feet, and I felt that, once I had centred myself, I was able to reply to you.  
Three offenses you laid at my feet. Each of equal magnitude.  
The first mentioned was that I had detached Michael Angelov from the engagement with my sister. When I first met Mister Angelov, I was concerned. He seemed too confident, too cocksure. But I grew to accept his attachment to my sister and when their engagement was annouced, I was dubious but accepting.  
I discovered through contact with our family lawyers that Anna had refused to sign a prenuptual agreement. You must understand the extent our family fortune. I work because I wish to, not because I must. The same goes for my sister.  
I admit that I had Michael Angelov followed. And what was reported to me, concerned me. He had multiple false accounts. He admitted to close friends that my sister was merely a means to a financial end.  
When I presented the evidence to Anna, she cried. It broke my heart. She went home to my parents and it is true, I offered to give Mr Angelov recompense. He accepted the money. I considered the whole incident ended.  
The second accusation you levelled at me was a disposition toward interfering with your brother’s engagement.  
It is true. I see Jessica as my sister. Even though she does not share my DNA, our hearts belong in each other’s lives. Her father worked for mine for many years. My first desire was to protect her.  
Your brother is a good man. And as the man who raised your brother, I also see you as a good man.  
I have no wish to interfere with Jessica and Sam. I feel only happiness for their union.  
The third, was that Balthazar warned you that I was not honest in my intentions toward you.  
This is incorrect. 

My regards,  
Castiel Novak


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean learns of family matters.

Months passed. Late summer headed into autumn, then to the early weeks of winter. T-shirts gave way to long sleeves, then huddled into coats as icy air came from the north.   
Dean had settled into his routine, rising early, heading to work and refusing to think of a man who had crept under his skin. That last moment with Castiel stayed with him. He could easily recall the look of pain, the look of disbelief on the man’s face. The letter just confirmed the reaction.   
Dean had been a dick. Again. React first. His MO.   
Sure, there was no hope for a future with Cas. The guy lived in California. He was a lawyer at a big shot firm. Hell, he partially owned that big shot firm. Dean loved it here. This was his home. It was part of his soul. Where his own business was. Small, with only occasional office help from Ellen, it suited him. He could shut the doors at 5pm and head on home with the knowledge of a satisfying day of work done.   
But the guilt of what he had said to Cas hung heavy. Dean had read and reread the letter. The last line; “That is incorrect”, made him pause every time. He hadn’t got up the courage to reply. Not with a return letter, or an email and certainly not via phone. He didn’t think he could deal with hearing that soft, gravelly voice.   
After all these months, Dean had come to terms with the fact he wouldn’t hear it any time soon. But he couldn’t help but check the display before answering his phone and feel a tiny hint of disappointment that it wasn’t the number he had programmed into his phone back in July. 

He was in his office dealing with paperwork when the phone rang. He picked up the receiver and gave his standard greeting: “Winchester Motors, how can I help?”  
“Dean?” Sam’s voice at the other end came through a faint sea of static.   
“Sammy?” Dean stood. “Is something wrong?”  
“Huh? No. All good.” Sam reassured him. “Just giving you an update. Jess and I are setting the wedding, a small one, for the end of January. You will be my best man, right?”  
“Yeah, sure.” Dean tucked his hand into the back pocket of his jeans, unable to keep the grin off his face. “That’s great, Sammy. Not for nothing, but I thought you were going to wait until after you graduated?”  
Dean could hear the hesitation on Sam’s end. He waited.  
“Uhh, I guess you should know. Jess is pregnant. Not far along. But, we discussed it, and we wanted to get married before the baby came.”  
“Sammy! Holy shit! Really?” Dean practically howled his reply down the phone, barely able to contain his joy. “You’re gonna be a dad!”  
“I’m scared shitless, Dean,” Sam’s voice was a low murmur.   
“Of course you are, buddy.” Dean chuckled. “But you will nail it. Really. So details. Where is this joyous event occuring?”  
“That’s the catch.”   
Dean hesitated. “What catch?”  
“It’s in Texas. With Castiel’s family. They became Jess’s family after her parents died, and Grandmother Novak can’t fly. So we offered to fly down there.”  
Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Texas? Like...big sky country. Cowboys and beer?”  
“That’s it.”  
“Jeez, Sammy.” Dean laughed softly. “Well, I guess that will be just fine. You know I wouldn’t miss it.”  
“Will you and Castiel be alright?”  
“No sweat,” Dean murmured. “We are all good.”  
“You sure?”   
“Yeah. Don’t sweat it.”  
They said their farewells and Dean set the phone down. He dropped into his chair and pressed his fingers into his temples. In six weeks he would see Castiel. Less than, he supposed. He guessed he would need to go get a suit with Sam. He groaned.


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean gains a new suit. And a new understanding.

“Sam, this looks ridiculous.” Dean sighed, studying his form in the mirror. The suit was black, perfectly tailored to his body. Even he had to admit that it made his shoulders look a mile wide. The collar of the white shirt was digging into his throat. A black bow tie was undone around his neck as he scowled at it. Who the hell wore a bow tie? He didn’t get any reply from his brother. He yanked off the offending item and shoved open the door to the change room.  
“Sam, how the hell do I …” he paused, his voice trailing off.  
Castiel stood there in his black suit. His eyes met Dean’s. “Sam is on the phone to Jessica.”  
“I ..uhh.” Dean broke Castiel’s gaze and stared down at his hands. “Hey, Cas.”  
“Hello, Dean.” Castiel slowly approached.  
Dean pressed his fingers to the back of his neck and rubbed the suddenly tense muscles. Silence, a very awkward silence, descended. Castiel broke it first.  
“How are you?”  
“I’m good,” Dean was grateful for the easy question to answer. “And...you?”  
“Fine.” Castiel rubbed his fingertips over his jaw.  
“Cas...hell.” Dean gestured helplessly. “I was an asshole when we last spoke. I’m sorry. Really sorry.”  
“It’s alright, Dean. Here.” Castiel pulled the bow tie away from Dean’s unresisting fingers. “Let me help.”  
Castiel stepped closer, looping the slick fabric behind Dean’s neck. Heat slammed into Dean’s gut as he caught the scent of Castiel’s cologne. He could feel Castiel’s warm knuckles brushing his throat as he manipulated the tie.  
“It’s not alright”, Dean managed. “I wanted to believe that you would do those things. I wanted to believe that because of your money, because of your privilege you would abuse it.”  
Castiel’s face was carefully composed as he smoothed the bow tie, then brushed his palms across Dean’s shoulders. He stepped back. Dean wanted to yank him back. Badly. He continued hurriedly.  
“But I was wrong. Really wrong. I believed Balthazar Roche because I wanted to.” Dean could see Castiel clenching his jaw and knew he was screwing this up again. “I was an idiot. You are a good man, Castiel. Better than I am. Better than I could ever be.” He shook his head. “I hope you can forgive me. I don’t deserve it, but I’m kind of banking on you being that better man.”  
Castiel was steadily watching Dean, an enigmatic expression on his handsome features. “I owe you an apology too, Dean.”  
Dean frowned. “For what?”  
“I, too, was prejudiced unduly.” Castiel gave him a faint smile. “I referred to your position as a mechanic as though it defined who you were. As well as showed no small amount of condescension toward you and the life that you live. It was unintentional. I was jealous.”  
Dean stilled, his hands tucked into his pockets, clenched into fists to still his fidgeting. “You were jealous? Of what?”  
“That you live a life you love. That you have family and friends that think the world of you. That you love your job. That you create things rather than destroy them. That I could not be a part of it.” Castiel couldn’t meet his eyes, he was staring resolutely at a display of gloves.  
“Cas…” Dean took a step forward then. “I don’t understand. You have the perfect life.”  
“It’s not perfect, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was bitter. “It’s lonely as hell. I work all the damn time. When we were at university, Balathazar was a good friend. But as the years have gone on, he changed. He takes great pleasure in being instrumental in deconstructing companies. I am weary of this life, Dean. When I came to your home back in July, it was like another world. One that contrasted to starkly to my own. And I wished it for myself.”  
Dean smiled then. “Aren’t we the pair?”  
Castiel huffed a soft laugh. “Quite.”  
“Hey guys.” Sam entered the shop again, staring down at his phone. “Jess has changed her mind. She wants blue for the bow ties.” He paused, glanced up, eyes widening when he studied the proximity of his brother to his erstwhile brother in law. He glanced from one to the other. “Everything alright?”  
“We are fine, Sam.” Castiel tugged at his perfectly constructed bow tie. “Your brother needs to learn how to tie a bow tie in any case.”  
Sam approached warily. “Right.” He looked at Dean.  
Dean, his chest suddenly lightened of the weight that he hadn’t been aware he had been carrying, just shrugged and grinned. “If you say so.”

“All good then?” Sam glanced at his best man, and Jess’s man of honour. “I guess we’re finished.”  
“When do you head back home?” Castiel asked Dean.  
Dean looked at his watch. “I need to be on the plane again in three hours.”  
Castiel nodded and held out his hand. “I will see you at the wedding then.”  
Dean gripped Castiel’s hand in return. “Yeah.”  
They held on just a little too long, before pulling away.  
“Come on, Sammy.” Dean picked up his backpack and headed for the door. Sam’s car was just outside. Dean folded his legs into the cramped seat, Sam took the driver’s side. As they pulled away from the kerb, Dean glanced out. Castiel was standing there in a warm overcoat. He met Dean’s gaze steadily. He didn’t smile, just raised his hand silently in farewell.  
Dean pressed his palm to the glass, watching Castiel until the car turned the corner.  
“Yeah,” Sam said quietly. “You two are just fine.”  
“Shut up, Sam.”


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Texas is big sky country

Dean stepped off the aircraft he had caught to Forth Worth and strode across the tarmac. He entered the main terminal and stared around uneasily. Several flights had landed close together and the place was teeming. He hefted his backpack and the suit holder over his shoulder into a more comfortable position. He checked his phone. It was still turned off. The thumbed the power button.  
Almost immediately several notifications pinged through. He skimmed through the messages swiftly. Three from Sam. Shit. 

Can’t make it to airport. Can you get a taxi? Address is same as on wedding invite. Sorry.

Dean sighed and hit the next message. 

Everything fine. Appointment at OBGYN went overtime. 

Then the third:

Castiel offered to pick u up. Look for him when u land.

Dean swallowed as his heart lurched. Cas was here? He skimmed the crowds again, and it took him a moment, but he spotted a tall dark haired man waiting in charcoal trousers and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He raised his hand, unable to keep the smile from his face.  
Castiel returned the raised hand, and the smile.  
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel rumbled his greeting.  
“Cas.” Dean studied Castiel’s face avidly. Cas hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. The dark scruff of his beard, in addition to the sexy tangle of his hair, made things happen to the south of Dean’s border.  
“Is this all of your luggage?” Castiel asked with a raised brow.  
“Yep.” Dean hefted his pack more securely on his shoulder, wondering vaguely if perhaps he hadn’t underpacked for an upper class wedding Texas. His jeans were clean, damn it. And he had a spare pair.  
“Alright, let’s hit the road.”  
Dean followed Castiel out of the terminal to the car park. When Castiel stopped beside a Landrover, Dean’s surprise must have shown on his face.  
“We are in Texas.” Castiel sounded faintly amused. “One must blend.”  
The tyres and bottom third of the car were dirt encrusted.  
“So, you don’t actually...live in the city, do you?”  
“No.” Castiel slid behind the wheel. “It’s a ranch about an hour from here.”  
“A ranch? With...cows?”  
“That’s generally what a ranch means, yes.”  
“You worked with cows?”  
“When I was a kid, yeah.”  
“Not sure I can even comprehend you getting shit on your boots, Cas.”  
“I washed them afterwards,” Castiel said calmly, staring out of the front window.  
Dean’s laugh echoed in the car. “Cas. You kill me.”  
“One hopes not.” Castiel downshifted expertly through the traffic. “Jessica might disapprove and Sam scares me a little. I think he has hidden depths. Plus I’m sure he can wrestle one of our steers to the ground with his bare hands.”  
Dean turned in his seat to look fully at Castiel. “He once tipped me and my entire mattress upside down and sat on me until I agreed to ...uhh… his point of view.”  
“What were you? Twelve?” Castiel looked askance at Dean.  
“Last year.” Dean grinned.  
Castiel’s lips twitched.  
“I like your smile,” Dean said softly.  
Castiel swerved a little. He cleared his throat and corrected his course.  
“You don’t smile often enough.”  
“You give me reason to.” Castiel upshifted to sixth as he hit the highway out of the city. 

Dean didn’t know what a Texas ranch looked like. He had in his head a ranch house, dust and a corral. He wasn’t prepared. His nose was almost flat to the window as Castiel powered up the bitumised road.  
“Hell, Cas. What does your family do here?”  
“Breed horses. Sell cattle.” Castiel shrugged as he spun the wheel around the arc that brought them in front of the main house.  
“Why did you leave?”  
“I thought I wanted another life.”  
“And now?”  
The car pulled to a halt. Castiel put it out of gear and shut down the engine. “I’m earning a lot of money. Isn’t that what it is all about?”  
Dean remained silent as he got out. He yanked his gear from the back seat. When he joined Castiel on the other side of the car, he finally replied:  
“No, Cas. No it ain’t.”  
The door of the main house opened and three people crowded out onto the doorstep.  
“Dean!” Jessica raced across the boards of the verandah and leapt into his arms. She kissed him enthusiastically on the mouth. “I’m so glad you are here! Castiel wasn’t too silent was he?” She glanced accusatorially at Castiel. He tucked his hands into his pockets and scuffed his booted foot.  
Sam was shaking his head slowly.  
“Look at you.” Dean cupped his hands around Jessica’s face. “You are gorgeous. You sure you don’t want to run away with me yet?”  
“Not this week. But when he forgets to change the toilet roll again, I might give you a call.” Jessica glanced over her shoulder at her husband to be.  
Dean released Jess long enough to wrap his brother in a hug. When they stepped back he slapped Sam lightly on the cheek. “So… bachelor party.”  
“No.” Sam barely paused.  
“Yes.” Dean replied emphatically.  
“The wedding is tomorrow, Dean,” Sam protested.  
“All the more reason. I only get to give my brother one of these.” Dean gestured behind him at Castiel. “Right, Cas?”  
“If Sam would prefer a night with - “  
Dean reached out and put his palm over Castiel’s mouth. “See? Even Cas agrees.”  
Castiel wrapped his hand around Dean’s wrist and tugged down. “A male bonding experience before the marriage rites is a commonality in our cultures. It would be a shame to circumvent such traditions.”  
Dean pointed at Castiel, trying to ignore the warm hand holding onto his wrist. “What he said. With less syllables.”  
“I agree, Sam.” A gentle voice interrupted their boisterous greeting.  
A slender young woman, red haired and lovely stood in the background. Dean watched Castiel reach out and after a moment of hesitation release him and draw the woman close.  
“Dean, this is Anna. My sister.”  
“Hi there.” Dean held out his hand for Anna.  
“Dean Winchester.” Anna smiled ethereally. “Castiel has spoken of you. It is a pleasure to meet you.”  
Dean glanced aside at Cas, who refused to meet his glance. “Oh really.”  
“Yes. He said you were very kind. And devoted to your family.”  
“I don’t -” Dean began.  
“Castiel never lies,” Anna said smoothly, gently touching Dean on the cheek. “It is the most endearing and frustrating thing about him.”  
Castiel stepped forward while Jessica and Sam looked on in interest. “Anna.”  
“My grandmother is the one you will have to convince, Dean.” Anna leaned forward and brushed a kiss on his cheek. “We pretend to be adults but in reality she is the true leader of our clan.”  
Dean was bewildered.  
Castiel had his hand over his eyes as his sister turned and swept inside.  
“Cas?” Dean looked to him for help.  
Castiel just shrugged and shook his head. “My grandmother is a formidable. But you have no truth to prove, Dean.”  
“Right.” Dean nodded and glanced back at the door. “So where am I sleeping?”


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding and an understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because a certain line was requested and it would be remiss of me to leave it out!
> 
> You know who you are ;) I hope I didn't disappoint.

Late the following afternoon, Dean stood behind Sam underneath the arbour overlooking the sweeping plains of the ranch, his hands clasped easily before him, in perfect replica of his brother. He was only happy his head wasn’t pounding. The bachelor party had finished around two am. He winced as the music changed to the soaring music of the bridal march, and dutifully turned to the top of the red carpeted aisle.  
"Don't faint, Sammy."  
"Bite me, Dean."  
Sam nonetheless gripped Dean's arm to calm his nerves. Dean squeezed Sam's wrist in reassurance.  
Jessica stood arm in arm with Castiel, serving double duty as her accompaniment up the red carpeted aisle as well as her man of honour. While Jessica wore an Edwardian style gown, cascading in princess folds over the slight bump of her belly, it was Castiel in his suit that drew Dean’s eye.  
While it matched the rest of the bridal party, Dean found his gaze tracing the line of Castiel's jaw, the tilt of his cleanshaven chin, the half smile curving his lips.  
"Wow." He heard Sam breathe his admiration of his bride's loveliness.  
"Yeah," Dean agreed, for entirely different reasons.  
At the top of the aisle, Castiel handed Jessica over to Sam, and met Dean's gaze briefly as he took up his position behind Jessica. His smile broadened slightly, before he sobered as the ceremony began.  
It was brief and lovely, with bride and groom speaking their own vows. As they spoke their heartfelt 'I do's', Dean swiped his hand across his eyes as tears burned. He caught Castiel doing the same thing. Cas shrugged one shoulder and gave a wry smile.  
The two men stood shoulder to shoulder as Jess and Sam walked back down the aisle, arm in arm with only eyes for each other.  
Then two hours was taken up with photographs in various combinations and poses. The traditional bridal party poses were thrown for a loop with Jess's unconventional choice of attendant. And for two hours in close proximity with Castiel, Dean's brain was sizzling. 

The reception was held in the massive dining room, spilling out onto the wide deck. Fairylights danced in the trees, lanterns swung on wires and braziers kept some warmth in the chilled wintery night.  
The bridal waltz was announced. Sam and Jess took to the floor and circled slowly, with eyes only for each other.  
When the DJ announced, "And now ...the best man and ...attendant of honour..." the crowd tittered with laughter. But Dean strode up to where Castiel stood on the edge of the crowd and held out his hand. Castiel tilted his head and looked queryingly at Dean.  
"Come on," Dean murmured. "We don't want to disappoint Jess." He had no idea his green eyes twinkled with mischief, the quirk of a smile proving irresistable.  
Castiel put his hand in Dean's and Dean swept him up into a ballroom hold, his hand splayed firmly on Castiel's back.  
"I can't actually dance," Castiel murmured softly.  
"Trust me," Dean winked.  
"Alright," Castiel nodded, meeting Dean's gaze. "I will."  
Dean smiled.  
With a firm lead, Dean swept Castiel into expert circles.  
"You are good at this," Castiel observed in his quiet way, moving his foot from where he had smashed Dean's toes a few times the past minute or so.  
"You are terrible," Dean's eyes crinkled with laughter. He leaned forward a little as though revealing a secret. He watched Castiel's eyes widen a little. "But I think you are teachable."  
Applause scattered through the crowd. Dean met Anna's gaze where she stood on the edge of the dance floor, her hands clasped, her eyes wide and a bright smile on her face. She joined in the rest of the clapping. Dean winked at her.  
When the DJ asked the rest of the crowd to join the dance, Dean slowed their pace until they moved slowly, not doing much more than swaying as the dance floor crowded. Castiel was silent, watchful. Dean studied him carefully. Castiel's blue eyes had him drowning.  
As the song ended and the next began, Castiel paused. "Thank you, Dean."  
"My pleasure, Cas."  
Castiel melted into the crowd, leaving Dean behind with a bemused smile on his face.  
"Dean Winchester." An aged voice interrupted his reverie.  
Dean turned with surprise. An old woman sat in a chair to one side. Anna was hovering nearby. He pasted a smile on his face, but a catch of nerves roiled his stomach.  
"Mrs Novak. Are you enjoying yourself?" Dean asked politely.  
"Quite. Come, sit, boy." She gestured to Anna, who pulled a chair toward Mrs Novak.  
Dean sat compliantly. Anna winked at him when he gave her a nervous smile.  
"You are from Kansas, yes?" She began.  
"Yes, ma'am. My father was the town sheriff, my mother was a school teacher."  
"What happened to them?" An imperious brow was raised.  
"Car accident. A drunk driver crossed double white lines." Dean's throat when tight.  
"How old were you?"  
"Fifteen."  
"Young."  
"Old enough." Dean folded his hands in his lap, the nails digging faint half moons in his palms.  
"And then what happened?"  
"Robert SInger and his wife took us in until I turned eighteen. I got my apprenticeship when I was sixteen, then supported my brother and I."  
"How did you afford Stanford?"  
"Life insurance and scholarships and what money I put aside." Dean was growing annoyed.  
"And what do you do now?"  
"Still just a mechanic."  
"I see." Mrs Novak studied him through narrowed eyes. "Well we have some vehicles here on the ranch that could do with a service."  
Dean's smile faded. "Regretfully, Mrs Novak, my flight out is tomorrow morning."  
"Hmmm." She seemed displeased.  
He stood up. "Do enjoy the rest of the party, Mrs Novak. It has been a pleasure." He bowed slightly from the waist.  
Mrs Novak didn't speak. Anna mouthed "I'm sorry", at him. He just shrugged, and headed for the doors. He needed fresh air. 

That was where Castiel found him, leaning on the railing, staring out into the darkness. The brazier kept some of the chill away, but icy zephyrs still played across the deck.  
"Dean, I am very sorry. Anna told me what happened."  
"Don't sweat it." Dean tried to unsuccessfully keep the anger from his tone.  
Castiel's hand touched his arm gently. "Please talk to me."  
Dean closed his eyes, his hands gripping the railing until his knuckles whitened. He pushed back, turned to face Castiel. "What do you want me to say?"  
Castiel searched Dean's face, eyes luminous in the half light from the lanterns above. "Are you angry with me?"  
"What?" Dean blinked. "No. Just... I'm not used to the third degree from strangers."  
"Why didn't you walk away then?" Castiel asked softly.  
"I ..." Dean scowled, shoving his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground. "I wanted her to like me, damn it."  
Castiel stepped forward, crowding his space a little. Dean didn't back up. "Why?"  
Dean looked up. "Damned if I know, Cas." He sighed and lifted his hands out toward Castiel. "Dance with me again?"  
"Out here?" Castiel glanced around.  
"Sure."  
Castiel studied his hands, lean and strong, until finally he put his hands in Dean's. "Very well."  
The music was faint from inside. This dance was little more than a slow shuffle, no breathless dip and sway of the waltz. Dean's thumb was tracing down Castiel's wrist. His other hand had slid down Castiel's spine and pressed against his lower back, drawing him in.  
"What are you thinking about?" Dean asked finally, just to break the intense silence that had descended.  
Castiel hesitated before he spoke and when he did his voice was a little rougher than usual, as though their proximity was affecting him as much as it was driving Dean a little stir crazy. "I was meditating on the pleasure that a pair of intense green eyes in a handsome face can bestow."  
Dean nearly fell over his own feet. He stopped. A chilled breeze cooled his suddenly flushed cheek. Castiel lifted his hand from Dean's shoulder, curved it over his jaw and leaned in.  
He brushed his lips over Dean's mouth, then gently teased his lower lip with his tongue.  
Dean's eyes drifted closed and with a sound low in his throat, he opened his mouth, slanted his head and deepened the kiss.  
For uncounted minutes, they tasted of one another. When a cheer went up from the distance, they broke apart and stared at each other, lips reddened, hair tousled.  
"Right." Dean spoke first, clearing his throat. "I didn't think I would get to do that again."  
Castiel huffed a soft laugh. "I didn't realise I wanted to do that again so badly."  
"Sounds like the happy couple are heading off." Dean jerked his chin at the interior of the house.  
"Yes. We should go inside. We can talk later."  
Dean nodded. He held out his hand toward Castiel. Without hesitation, Cas took it.  
Fingers entwined, they headed back to the party.  
"Hang on," Dean paused them both before entry. "How's my tie?"  
Castiel reached up and tweaked it slightly. "Good. How about me?"  
"Very good." Dean leaned forward again, kissed Castiel fiercely for a moment. When he drew back, Cas' eyes were shut. Dean groaned. "Hell, you are smoking hot like that." He brushed his thumb over Castiel's thoroughly kissed lips.  
Castiel flushed slightly. "Thank you."  
"You're welcome." Dean opened the door, and the two men re-entered reality.


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times. That's pretty much it :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you aren't much into the whole explicit sex thing, you can skip this chapter. My story is changing to Explicit rather than Mature. 
> 
> If you are into the whole explicit sex thing - enjoy!

The house had finally fallen silent. Anna and Mrs Novak had gone to their wing of the house. The guests were gone. Sam and Jess had gone to the guest cottage up on the lookout. Dean sat on the couch in the living room, staring out over the moonwashed range beyond the picture windows. His head was back on the soft cushioning and his feet were crossed at the ankle.  
His jacket was discarded on the table and his bowtie was undone, along with a couple of the top buttons of his shirt.   
“You should go to bed.” Castiel’s rumbling voice broke the silence.   
“In a bit,” Dean said and patted the seat beside him. “Join me?” Castiel sat beside him, flicking the button of his suit coat. Dean couldn’t help but smile. “Don’t you ever relax?”  
“I’m sorry?” Castiel frowned.  
“You. You are still wearing … all of it.” Dean gestured at Castiel’s clothing.  
“I did not wish to leave it crumpled somewhere…” Castiel’s voice trailed off as his gaze dropped to Dean’s jacket. “Sorry. Habit, I suppose.”  
Dean held out his hand toward Castiel. Hesitating at first, Castiel placed his palm over Dean’s.   
“I’m glad you are here.” Dean said, brushing his thumb over the back of Castiel’s hand. “I was feeling a little odd what with Sammy being married and about to be a father. I guess he really did grow up without me noticing.”  
“I am here for you, Dean,” Castiel said in his serious way. “You little brother is going through these milestones. And since you brought him up for the most part, I understand your disquiet.”  
“God I love the way you talk. I would really like to kiss you now.” Dean shifted in his seat. “And seeing where things end up. How do you feel about that?”  
Castiel went still, his bright gaze steady on Dean’s face. “Yes.”  
“Yes?” Dean couldn’t help the smile spread wide across his face as he tugged on Castiel’s hand. “You are too far away.”  
Castiel scooted closer, his other hand resting lightly on Dean’s thigh. “Better?”  
“Much.” Dean leaned forward and kissed Castiel lightly on the mouth. Teasingly, he nibbled on his lower lip. Castiel groaned and shifted closer, lifting his hand to curve around Dean’s neck, his tongue traced the seam of Dean’s mouth before dipping inside, tasting and testing. Dean slid his hand under Castiel’s jacket, and skimmed up his back.   
With a sudden move that surprised and very much pleased Dean, Castiel straddled Dean’s lap. He kissed down Dean’s jaw and traced his tongue down the curve of his neck.   
“Too many clothes,” Dean muttered, sliding his palms up Castiel’s chest and under the shoulders of the jacket. Castiel broke the kiss long enough to shrug his arms out of the suit, letting it drop behind him on the floor.   
Dean slowly undid the tie, his gaze fixed on Castiel’s blazing eyes. With a flick of his fingers he undid the button at the top of Castiel’s throat, then the next. And the next. Dean sat up a little and fixed his mouth to the smooth skin at the base of Castiel’s throat. Castiel arched forward and groaned.  
When the bulge in Castiel’s pants ground against his, Dean moaned against Castiel’s overheated skin.   
“Shit, Cas.” Dean yanked him closer.   
“Dean … “  
“Need, bed.” Dean unconsciously ground against Castiel’s cock. “Don’t wanna get caught making out on the couch.”  
Castiel rested his forehead against Dean’s, his breath gasping out. “Yes. Bed.” He pressed his hands either side of Dean and pushed back. He held out his hand. Dean gripped it and Castiel pulled him up.   
“Your bed or mine?” Dean asked, their lips millimetres apart.  
“Mine.” Castiel replied, fisting his hand in Dean’s shirt. “Better mattress.”   
“I like me a good mattress.” Dean kissed Castiel hard. 

Castiel kicked the door shut behind him. Dean took in the room in a haze. A large bed, heavy wood, heavy blue curtains, a dark navy bed spread. A light shone through a door, indicating the ensuite bathroom.  
Dean had already yanked his shirt over his head and after struggling with the cuffs, cursing he yanked apart the cufflinks and tossed the shirt on the floor while toeing off his shoes. Cooler heads prevailed as Castiel systematically undid the buttons down the front of his shirt, and flicked his cufflinks open, placing both carefully on the dresser top.   
Dean undid the buckle of his belt and stripped it through the belt loops. Glancing up at Castiel, Dean watched his careful disrobing and smiled.   
When Castiel turned, Dean was standing in front of him holding out both hands. Castiel stepped forward, meeting hands palm to palm, linking fingers.  
“Do you prefer to give or receive?” Castiel asked softly.  
“Either.” Dean replied softly. “I trust you.”  
“I have never ...been taken.”  
“Cas.” Dean pressed a kiss to the corner of Castiel’s mouth. “I trust you.”  
Castiel released Dean’s hand and raised it to his face. Dean enjoyed the surprisingly rough brush of Castiel’s thumb as it slid over his jaw. Dean undid the button and fly of his trousers and let them drop to his ankles. His fingers went to Castiel’s waistband.   
“May I?” he whispered, an inch from Castiel’s lips.  
“Yes.” Castiel gripped Dean’s shoulder while he stepped first one leg from the pants leg, then the other, shoes and socks toed off at the same time. He thumbed his white boxers down and stood uncertainly naked for a moment.   
“Nice,” Dean skimmed a single finger from Castiel’s collarbone to his hip bone. His heavy cock was definitely showing interest in the situation. Castiel’s breath was an audible gasp.  
Dean walked back a pace, two then three. The back of his knees hit the side of the bed. Castiel nudged Dean back with a hand to his chest and Dean bounced onto the mattress. Castiel’s knee hit between Dean’s thighs and he propped himself on his hands either side of Dean’s head. He met Dean’s gaze and gave a rueful smile.  
“I hope I don’t fuck this up.”   
Dean reached up, sliding his fingers from Castiel’s shoulders down to his hips. Castiel’s half hard cock jerked as Dean scritched his blunt fingernails up Castiel’s spine. Dean grinned as he saw the goosebumps prickle over Castiel’s skin.   
“Cas, I want this. You want this. Stop overthinking.”  
Castiel leaned down and captured Dean’s mouth in a hard kiss. With a roll of his hips, a delicious frisson between their cocks had Dean struggling to suck in a decent breath. Dean’s hands splayed over Castiel’s back, feeling every flex of muscle, the tension in his shoulders.   
“Condom …” Dean managed to gasp.   
Castiel broke the kiss and on hands and knees he reached across Dean to the bedside table and yanked open the drawer. Fumbling, he managed to grab a strip of purple packaged condoms and a bottle of lube. He sat back on his haunches with the items in hand and studied Dean, his chest heaving, sweat slicking his skin while his cock dripped precum onto his thigh. Dean was leaning back on his elbows, then pushed up to sitting. He reached for Castiel, sliding his hand around the back of Castiel’s head and pulling him in for another kiss.  
“You taste so good,” Dean murmured against Castiel’s lips. “Can’t get enough.”   
“Mff,” Castiel managed, sliding his arm around Dean’s waist and pulling him in.   
“Want you. Now.” Dean shifted on the bed. Castiel placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders, traced his fingers over the ridges of muscle and down to his curve of his ass. Around then to the flat plane of his abs. He pulled Dean back to his chest, his cock nestling heavy into the crack of Dean’s ass. Dean ground back against him, reaching back to pull Castiel closer.   
Castiel fastened his mouth onto the arch of Dean’s throat and bit lightly. He licked the site, his hands exploring Dean’s chest before skimming down to his cock. He curved his hand around Dean’s length and explored his weight, his texture. He collected some of the constantly dripping precum and used it to ease the steady rhythm that had Dean thrusting into his hand and back onto his cock in a brain melting dual friction.  
“God, Cas, I’m going to explode.” Dean clenched his jaw and Castiel slid his tongue along the tense muscle.   
Dean almost whimpered as Castiel released his cock. He heard the snap of the lubricant lid and waited tensely as Castiel replaced the hot ridge of his cock with cool fingertips against his ass. He moaned at the whirl of sensation that had his gut dropping. He reached back and clutched at Castiel’s forearm, not to stop him, but to find an anchor for his need.   
When Castiel breached the ring of muscle of his ass with a finger, he dropped his head back and moaned. Castiel wrapped an arm around his chest and whispered, “I have you. Right here. I have you.”  
Dean leaned back on Castiel as he prepared him. His hips rolled back against Castiel’s fingers.   
“Cas,” he gasped from between tense lips. “I’m ready.”  
“One moment,” came the reply from behind him. Castiel’s hands left his body and he heard the sound of a condom wrapper being torn open.   
In preparation, Dean widened his knees a little, and leaned forward to place both hands on the bed. His cock hung heavy and dripping between his thighs. He tensed as he felt Castiel’s hand on his hip, then the solid ridge of Castiel’s lube slicked cock slid up into the crack of his ass. The last of the tension eased from Dean’s back. He could feel Castiel’s hand soothing him gently, as the blunt tip of his cock pressed against his entrance.   
“Push back.” Castiel murmured hoarsely.   
Dean dropped his forehead down to his clenched hands. He clutched at the bedsheets and pushed back slowly as Castiel breached him with inexorable pressure. Precum streamed onto the bed from his cock, and he reached down and curled his hand around it. He was so intensely full. Had never felt this full before.  
“You okay?” Castiel asked with a strangled note in his voice.  
“Fuck, Cas.” Dean moaned. “Start moving. Now.”  
Castiel curved his body over Dean’s and slowly rolled his hips. The sound that came from Dean’s throat was unintelligible and unearthly.   
It took a few thrusts but they found each other’s rhythm. Castiel curved his hand around Dean’s hand on his cock and helped him stroke in time with his thrusts.   
“Fuck. Yes. Harder.” Dean turned his head and their mouths met in an awkward kiss.   
Castiel’s thrusting sped up, his hips driving harder into Dean.   
“Yes. God. Yes.” Castiel gasped. “Dean. I’m.. going…”   
Dean reached back and grabbed Castiel’s thigh, pulling him close. “Do it. Do it.”  
“You too...” Castiel licked Dean’s ear and nibbled. Dean jerked. That was a total fuck me move. His hand went back to his cock and he squeezed.   
Castiel’s motions went unsteady, his forehead pressing against Dean’s shoulder, his breath washing over Dean’s sweat slicked skin and thrust once more, then twice. Dean felt Castiel go very still, his groan a sweet symphony in his ear. The sensation of his sliding withdrawal was enough to tip Dean over the edge. He stiffened and exploded over his hand and stomach and collapsed forward with a grunt.   
Castiel had removed the condom and tossed it at the bin. He tiredly lay down next to Dean. Dean turned over onto his side and barely kept his eyes open as he peered at Castiel. He reached out and laid his hand on Castiel’s chest. Castiel curved his hand over Dean’s and turned his head toward him.   
“God, Dean,” he murmured. “I don’t think I can even move.”   
Dean rumbled a soft laugh and propped his head up on his hand. He leaned forward and kissed Castiel gently on the lips. “You got some moves, Counsellor.”  
“You have a few yourself.” Castiel touched Dean gently on the cheek, his thumb tracing the ridge of bone.   
“However I’m not sleeping on the wet spot.” Dean grinned.   
Castiel blinked, and his lips twitched at the irreverant comment. “The bathroom is right there. I will toss out the bedspread.”   
Dean kissed him quickly and crawled up off the bed. He headed for the bathroom and glancing over his shoulder with a wicked smile: “Join me?”

Later, Castiel lay awake. A glance at the bedside clock told him it was four am. He turned his head back to study the man who shared his bed. Dean slept splayed on his front, his face smashed into the pillow, arms buried underneath the pillow.  
Castiel didn’t make a habit of sharing his bed with anyone. But this man, this incredibly hot, sexy, blanket stealing man, was different.   
Castiel closed his eyes. He felt the world drift away and briefly wondered if tonight was the first night his insomnia didn’t keep him awake until dawn.


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean is awoken.

Van Halen rang tinnily from the floor of the bedroom. Dean groaned and stretched and jerked upright when his hand struck something warm and solid. He grinned at the sight of a still sleeping Cas curled up next to him, the dark scruff of beard and tumble of dark hair over his brow making Dean want to reach out and touch him. The music cut off, then the message notification beeped.  
Dean scrubbed his hand down his face and sighed. Getting up was the last thing he wanted to do, but his flight was in a few hours. When “Runnin’ with the Devil” started up again, he frowned. What was so important that needed two calls?  
He yanked back the covers and scrambled out of bed as Castiel grumbled something unintelligible behind him. He found the phone in the pocket of his discarded pants and saw the display. “Shit. Lisa."  
“Dean?”  
Dean ignored the sleepy query from the bed and put the phone to his ear.  
"Lisa, what's wrong?"  
" _Dean.._." Lisa’s voice was choked.  
"It's not Ben is it? Or Bobby?" Panic tightened his throat.  
" _No. No. Nothing like that. They are fine. Dean... it's your garage. It's gone. All of it is gone. There was a fire last night._ "  
Dean lapsed into silence, his hand covered his mouth to still the sound of the pained moan that threatened to escape.  
" _Dean?_ " Lisa asked hesitantly.  
"Yeah, I'm here." Dean managed, closing his eyes. "What happened? Do they know how the fire started?"  
" _The firies are still working on knocking down the last of the blaze. They don't know. There isn't much left to look at. I'm sorry. Dean, I"m so sorry._ "  
"The Impala? My baby?"  
Silence from the other end told him all he needed to know.  
"Okay. Thanks for letting me know. My flight is at nine," Dean said flatly.  
" _I love you, Dean_."  
"Love you too, babe." He hung up and stared down at his phone clutched tightly in his hand.  
"Dean?" Castiel asked softly, tugging on a pair of sweatpants. "What happened?"  
"It's gone. All of it...gone. The garage." Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyesockets.  
"Do you want to call Sam?"  
"No. No." Dean shook his head. "No. He needs to enjoy this time. He doesn’t need to know yet." He tossed the phone on the bed and turned to Cas.  
"I'm not sure ..." Castiel said hesitantly.  
"Cas. Leave it." Dean shook his head.  
Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean. At first Dean stiffened, rejecting the comfort, but after a moment he returned the embrace, dropping his head to Cas’ shoulder. He would deny weeping, but his eyes were hot and tears slid silently down his cheeks.  
"What can I do?" Castiel murmured softly.  
"Nothing. I need to get home, see what the damage is." Dean took a shaky breath.  
"Alright. If you need anything, please ask."  
Dean lifted his head and glanced at the clock. “I need to get packed.”  
Castiel stepped back. “Yes, of course. I will take you to the airport.”  
“Thanks, Cas.” Dean bent down to yank his dress pants back on. He stilled and gave Castiel a long look. “This isn’t the way I intended to wake you up.”  
Castiel laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “It will be alright. We can talk later.”

“ _Last call for boarding for Flight 1430 to Kansas City._ ” The annoucement was tinny.  
Dean shifted his pack onto his shoulder and turned to Castiel and reached for him. Castiel moved forward and kissed Dean fiercely, bunching the fabric of his jacket into his fists. They broke apart.  
“I have to go,” Dean said softly.  
“I know.” Castiel pressed his hands to Dean’s chest.  
“I will call when I get there.”  
“Thank you.” Castiel stepped back. “Thank you for everything.”  
Dean quirked a half smile, then headed for the gate. He turned before the doors closed and raised his hand in farewell. Castiel held up his hand in reply.  
Dean felt the tears burn in his eyes as he followed the last passengers for his flight.


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the tardiness of the chapter. I had a migraine for most of the day. Sorry for any errors.

Grim faced, Dean stood staring at the remnants of his garage his pack dumped at his feet. He had headed straight here from the airport.

Dark spires of wood were harsh spikes against the grey skies, scorched and scarred. The wreck of the Impala was beneath a collapsed wall. His tools somewhere beneath the rubble.

The fire department had cleared the building as safe to enter. The likely cause was faulty wiring according to the investigator. It didn’t make sense. The guy his insurance company had sent to inspect the building had given it a clean bill. There would be an interesting phone call.

Dean pulled his hands from the depths of his winter coat and activated his phone.

“Cas?”

“Dean.” Cas’ voice down the other end of the phone had him closing his eyes. “How are you?”

“I made it. Just … y’know. Checking in like I said.”

“It is good to hear your voice.”

Dean toed the gravel at his feet. “It’s worse seeing it, Cas.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“How’s … how’s Sammy?”

“He is happy. Sam and Jessica came to the main house this afternoon.”

“You didn’t say anything?”

“No, Dean. You asked me not to.”

“Right. Yeah. Thanks. I will tell him in a few days.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Dean hesitated. He wanted to ask Cas to be here. To get on a plane and just ...be here. But he couldn’t. Their lives were too different. He could see that in the cold light of day. Texas was just an interlude, one that for the sake of his heart, could not repeat.

“Dean?”

“No, Cas. I’m fine,” Dean said in place of what he longed to say. “Have a safe trip back to California.”

“I should be home tomorrow night. May I call then?”

Dean stared down at his feet. “Sure. Yeah.”

There was a pause from the other end of the line. Then: “Try to get some rest.”

“Yep. Got it.” Dean nodded. “Talk to you later.”

“Goodbye, Dean.”

“Bye, Cas.”

Dean hung up. He held the phone for a long time before returning it to his pocket. He yanked his jacket off and tossed it over the remnants of a collapsed wall. He pushed up his sleeves and picking up the first of the bricks that had dented the shiny surface of the Impala, he tossed it aside. He had to keep busy. Had to do something.

 

A couple of hours later, Dean had his hands pressed to the roof of the Impala. It had been gutted. The seats were burned out, the dashboard a twisted mass. He pressed his brow to the cool metal and took a gasping breath.

A hand touched his shoulder and he jerked upright.

“You should have called when you got back, idjit.” Bobby pulled Dean into a fierce hug. “Come on, boy. Let’s get you home. We can sort this mess out tomorrow.”

Dean was staring sightlessly out of the window of Bobby’s car, chin in hand, resting on the sill, despite the freezing air washing over his face.

“We’re here,” Bobby said gruffly.

Dean turned back to the front windscreen, hand on the door handle, when he frowned. “What?”

“Thought you should come stay with me and Ellen tonight. She has made up your room and what take no for an answer. She even made pie. Apple.”

Dean gave a faint smile. “How could I say no?”

“Wasn’t even an option.” Bobby hopped down from his side of the truck and slammed the door.

Dean got down too, a little bone deep weariness slowing him down.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

“Don’t sweat it, Dean. You’re family.”

Dean clapped Bobby on the back as he preceded him up the stairs. The front door opened and Ellen stood in the door way.

“Oh my baby.” Ellen folded Dean into the warmest hug that could only come from the woman who had stood in for his mother all these years. “My boy. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t fuss over him, Ellen.” Bobby scowled. “Let the boy breathe.”

“Oh hush, Bobby. Now come on in, Dean. Sit before the fire while Bobby finishes cooking dinner. You can tell me all about the wedding. I’m so sorry we couldn’t come.”

“Sammy understands.” Dean kept his arm slung over Ellen’s shoulders, her arm wrapped across his waist, as he was drawn once again into the warm, fragrant world of the Singer’s.

 

“Then Cas and I did the waltz, Jess gave the bouquet to Mama Novak, and headed off with Sammy up to the guest cottage.” Dean sipped of the beer Bobby had pressed into his hand when he first sat down.

“Cas? Oh, Castiel Novak? The young man that came out for a visit with Jess?”

Dean nodded and smiled faintly, fidgeting with the label on the bottle. Ellen leaned forward, eyes narrowed speculatively. “And the young man you stayed with when Sam was hurt?”

“Yeah.” Dean shifted uncomfortably under Ellen’s scrutiny.

Ellen leaned back with a wide grin. “I see.”

“No, no, no.” Dean held out a hand. “There is nothing to see.”

Ellen swirled her beer bottle, her eyes twinkling at him. “Of course not, darling. Of course not.”

“Grub’s up.” Bobby rumbled from the doorway.

Ellen set down her empty bottle, stood and held out her hand toward Dean. He gripped it and heaved himself upright. She reached up and patted his cheek.

“I’m glad,” she said softly.

 

“What did Sam say when you told him about the garage?” Bobby pointed a fork loaded with lasagna.

Dean grimaced. “Didn’t tell him. It’s his honeymoon, Bobby. He didn’t need this on him yet.”

“He’s going to be pissed off you didn’t say anything.”

“He will get over it.”

“You are a prize idjit, boy.” Bobby set down his fork and shook his head.

“Oh, Bobby, he had a shock.” Ellen put her hand on Bobby’s forearm. “Let’s not be too harsh.”

“Thankyou, Ellen,” Dean said drily.

“But if you don’t call your brother in the morning, I will slap you over the head myself.” Ellen beamed at him.

Dean groaned and dropped his chin to his chest. “I’m thirty seven, Ellen.”

“And you are never too old for it,” Bobby growled.

“Alright, alright.” Dean held up his hands in defeat. He paused as his phone dinged a notification and he winced in apology. “Sorry. Just waiting on a message from...uhhh…” He cleared his throat and pulled out his phone. He flipped it open.

_How are you? I am thinking of you._

Ellen crowed with delight. “He’s smiling! I saw that!”

Dean wiped the automatic smile from his mouth, scowled and shoved the phone back into his pocket. Bobby stood up, clearing the dishes, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

“Oh go ahead and answer him, Dean.” Ellen leaned back in her chair. “For once, I don’t mind a whit you broke house rules.”

Dean hesitated and pulled out the phone. He watched Ellen warily, but she just sat there with her arms crossed and a big smile on her face. He thumbed rapidly over the keys and hit send.

_Thinking of you too. How’s everything there?_

The reply came through within moments.

_Quiet. I think Sam knows something is off. He is worried that you haven’t spoken to him._

Dean hesitated before replying.

_I will tell him in the morning. Thanks Cas. Sleep well._

He smiled widely at the reply.

_I will without you here to steal the blankets._

Dean looked up to see Bobby and Ellen staring at him. The former with a scowl and the latter with a knowing look. Dean cleared his throat and put his phone away.

Bobby set a plate of pie before him and sat back down, shaking his head.

“Shut up,” Dean picked up his spoon and cracked the shell of the pie, and sighed in gratitude.

 

He missed Ellen and Bobby sharing a significant glance.

 

 


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Missed calls

“Sammy? Hey. How’s the honeymoon?” Dean greeted Sam as cheerfully as he could over their slightly staticky connection.

_“Dean. Hi. It’s great. Aside from the morning sickness.”_

“Nice.” Dean leaned against the railing that separated the Singer’s house from their swath of backyard that held their massive vegetable garden. “Look, Sammy. Something’s happened.”

_“I knew it. I damn well knew it. Castiel was being too twitchy. Damn it, Dean. What’s going on?”_

“The garage burnt down, Sammy.”

There was silence for a time, then:

_“I’m coming home.”_

Dean straightened. “Sammy. No. It’s fine. I mean, okay it’s not fine. It’s a mess. But one I can clean up. That’s why I have insurance.”

_“Does Cas know?”_

Dean hesitated. “He was there when Lisa rang.”

 _“You told him and not me?”_ Sam was furious. Dean winced. _“You’re my brother, Dean. You should have told me.”_

“I wanted you to enjoy a couple of days in peace, Sam. I didn’t want you to worry about all this.”

_“You lost your livelihood, Dean. That’s not something little. That’s pretty damn fucking huge.”_

“Look, I’m okay, Sam. Really.”

Sam lapsed into silence. _“Okay.”_

“I will call when I know more. Enjoy being an old married man.”

_“Take care, Dean. Say hi to Bobby and Ellen for me.”_

“Will do.”

Dean hung up, clutched the phone tightly in his hand.

“Cold out here.” Ellen held out a cup of coffee.

Dean took it gratefully. “Yeah.”

“He was pissed?”

“Oh yeah. Real pissed.”

Ellen patted him gently on the shoulder.

 

A few days later, Dean leaned against the door of Bobby’s truck and heaved a sigh at the mammoth task ahead. The massive dumpster bin had been delivered earlier. Dean leaned into the back of the truck and pulled out a pair of heavy leather gloves. He yanked them on and got to work.

 

Lunchtime had Dean sitting on the bed of the truck, chowing down on a round of sandwiches Ellen had packed for him. He checked his phone idly and tamped down on the faint disappointment that clutched his chest when there was no messages. He tossed the phone beside him and finished his lunch.

Dean glanced up as a car pulled up behind the truck. He peered through the windshield and grinned. He levered himself off the flatbed and jumped down.

“Sam.”

Dean was enveloped in a big plaid moose-hug. “Dumb ass.”

“Hey,” Dean protested, and glanced aside as the passenger door shut.

“Oh my god, Dean.” Jessica’s face was horrified as she stared at the burned workshop.

“Yeah. It’s pretty bad.” Dean grimaced. “I’ve had a while to get used to it.”

“Oh man …” Sam kept his arm around Dean’s shoulder. Jessica slipped to his other side and wrapped her arms around his midsection.

“Not for nothing, but damn I’m glad you are here. Even if you are total jerks for ignoring me.”

“You’re the jerk for not asking for help.” Sam clapped his hand on Dean’s chest.

“What about school?”

“On break, brother.” Sam pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket. “Come on. Let’s get started.”

“Hey...uhh… Jess,” Dean stayed Jess as she moved to follow Sam into the mess.

“Yeah, Sam?” Jess looked up at him with a smile.

“How’s… how’s Cas?” Dean fidgeted with his gloves.

Jess’ lovely smile faded. “Why don’t you call him?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I uhhh…. Dunno. I have had this to consider, and he’s in California. Y’know, back to reality and all.”

“Dean, I love you.” Jess put one hand on his arm, the other one over his heart. “But you are an idiot.”

“Hey,” Dean protested.

“Look, Dean.” Jess peered up at him. “Cas is my brother in every way but blood. I know him. When he looks at you…” She half-smiled, stepped back and followed Sam into the ruins.

Dean held out his hands. “When he looks at me...what? Jess?”

 

After dinner, Dean stepped out onto the deck. He dialled the numbers he knew by heart. He stared up at the icy cold, starry night while the connection was made and the phone rang on the other end. He was disappointed when it went through to message bank.

 

_You have reached Castiel Novak. My apologies, I am unable to answer. Please leave a message and I will return your call as soon as possible._

 

“Hey, Cas. It’s me. Dean. Uhh...guess you are busy and … all that. We are doing well here. Got half the workshop cleaned up. Some of my tools were fine and …” Dean paused. “Anyway. Sorry I haven’t called. I guess I’m trying to get it straight in my head. You are a great guy … the best but I’m - “ Dean was cut off by the annoying woman telling him that he had to hit hash to send the message. He hung up, leaned his forearms on the railing and lowered his gaze to the ground.

“Hey, you alright?” Sam’s breath came in white clouds. “Who were you just talking to?”

Dean squinted down at his hands. “Cas. Left a message. He’s out.”

“Phone tag, huh?”

“Yeah.” Dean stuffed the phone into his pocket.

“What’s happening there?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sam mirrored his pose. “I saw you two at the wedding.”

“It was just a hook up, Sam,” Dean lied, rubbing his aching hands.

“I know you, Dean, just as well as I know myself. I saw the way you looked at him when you thought no one was watching. Well I was watching.”

“Yeah well, it won’t work, Sam. I don’t wanna leave this life, and he doesn’t wanna leave his. So where does that leave us?”

“With a decision to make.” Sam pushed himself upright, and rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Make sure you both make the right one.”

Dean nodded silently. Sam headed back inside to the warmth and laughter of Bobby’s house. Dean took a slow breath in. It was time for him to go home.

 

Sam and Jess had gone back home by the time the bulldozer came in to remove the walls. The Impala, or what was left of it, had been towed back to his place, sitting desolately in his driveway in front of the beat up Ford he had bought at a second hand lot.

Dean watched the last of the walls come down and it hurt.  He had worked at the place since he was sixteen, eventually buying it from Rufus ten years ago.

But what hurt worse was the fact that Castiel never called. Only a single text.

 

_Sorry. I was out with Balthazar. We signed a large contract and celebrated. Hope you are well._

 

And that was a couple weeks back.

Dean scrubbed his hand over his face, the scratch of his beard rough against his skin. He picked up the bundle of mail wrapped in a band that had been delivered home, the redirect address from the garage to his home scribbled on it in pen. He yanked off the rubber band and sorted through bills, bills, junk mail and then dropped all of it when the letterhead of the Pinnacle Insurance Company. He studied the date, a week ago, and his heart leapt into his throat. He tore open the envelope.

There were several pages, the assessment, the results, the decision from the company. He skimmed through to find the only paragraph that mattered.

“Son of a bitch,” he snarled, jumped into the Ford and tore out of the gravel lot.

 

Ellen stared at the paperwork. Bobby sat down, putting a glass of scotch before each of them. Dean took the shot and slammed it down. He coughed and pressed the back of his hand to his lips.

“It’s as bad as what I think, right?” Dean’s voice was hoarse.

“I don’t understand this. You were all paid up, right?”

Dean nodded. “I was inspected six months ago and was given a clean bill of health. Electrics all a-ok.” He shrugged, pressing his fingertips to his brow.

“Balls,” Bobby growled.

“Guy must have been drunk when he was up the ladder,” Dean sighed. “Missed something.”

“So the insurance company screwed up? How can they deny your insurance on that basis?”

“Need to talk to the insurance guy.”

“You have his name?”

“Business card, yeah.” Dean rubbed his brow with the heel of his hand. “Shit. Stored in my office.”

“Damn it.” Ellen slammed down her whiskey.

“What am I gonna do, guys?” Dean’s shoulders slumped.

“We will sort it. Honest.” Ellen leaned over the table and clutched Dean’s hand. “That’s what family does.”

 

After Dean had gone home, Ellen gathered up the glasses and took them to the kitchen while Bobby read through the paperwork again. He ran his hands over his beard.

“The kid’s in trouble,” he muttered.

Ellen came back and rested her hands on Bobby’s shoulders. “I have an idea.”


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help from an unexpected source.

Dean cleaned off his hands. He stretched his back and groaned. He had been working with Garth Fitzgerald in his garage. Garth was a diesel mechanic dealing with big machines in the area, and had no problems with Dean fitting his clients in around his gear. They had been buddies since high school and once the news of the insurance company’s refusal to pay spread around, Garth had stepped in and made the offer to Dean.

“Heya buddy,” Garth strolled in, tossed Dean a soft drink and leaned against the beat up car he had been working on. “Long day?”

“Yeah.” Dean grinned, caught the can and popped the top. “It’s good to be back to it.” He tapped it dully to Garth’s in salute. “Thanks.”

“Hey, I couldn’t leave a brother hangin’.” Garth drawled. “You are good for business, Dean. Ain’t never had so many pretty ladies wantin’ their cars serviced, if ye know what I mean.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean cleared his throat, wondering if Garth would have an issue with his sexuality. “They don’t really, y’know… interest me.”

“Like I care, Dean-o.” Garth downed another gulp. “Them pretty ladies have the good money.” He winked at Dean.

Dean laughed softly and shook his head.

“Huh. Who’s the suit?” Garth pointed at the doorway.

Dean swallowed hard and turned to the door. Suit? Could it … No. Once again he was doomed to disappointment. The guy was a stranger to Dean. The two mechanics stood watching him disdainfully approach across the oil stained floor.

“Dean Winchester?” The suit glanced between the two men.

Garth pointed at Dean. Dean narrowed his eyes and held up his hand.

“Good. I’m from Pinnacle Insurance. Zachariah Fuller.”

“I don’t want to talk to you douchebags,” Dean snapped.

“I’m sure you will make an exception just this once,” Zachariah replied smoothly. He held out a large envelope to Dean.

“What is this?” Dean took it.

“You are being paid out of your insurance claim in full, Mister Winchester.” Zachariah pulled a silver pen from his inner coat pocket. “If you sign at the indicated places, I am authorised to give you the cheque paid out in full.”

Dean stilled. “What?”

“Slick move. Getting that law firm involved.” Zachariah smiled thinly.

“Law firm?” Dean frowned. “I didn’t.”

“Someone did. Novak, Roche and Barnes. Real sharks. The guy who failed to inspect your place has been fired. Seems he put in false reports all over the state. Fortunately for you.”

Leaning against the Ford, he signed the papers. Zachariah took his copies, handed over the cheque, and headed for his car. Dean stared down at the pile of papers, including copies of all correspondence with Novak, Roche and Barnes.

Every one of the letters was signed by Cas.  

Dean looked up at Garth. “What just happened?”

“Freedom, buddy.” Garth winked at Dean. “Better get going. I’m thinkin’ you have work to do.”

“Yeah.” Dean checked his watch. “Yeah, I do.”


	21. Twenty One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that phone call from Dean that got cut off? Imagine how that sounded to Cas.
> 
> I also wanted to say, thank you so much to all the readers that took the time to hit the kudos button. It helps.   
> And most especially to all of you wonderful, sweet people who took the time to tell me your reactions to the story - whether positive or with very much appreciated constructive criticism. It helps me to be a better writer.   
> Big Australian sized hugs for you all!

Dean sat in the waiting room, his knee jiggling, hands linked on his flat belly. He felt discomfitted in his battered, wrinkled old army surplus jacket. He wore a plain shirt and the jeans that had the least stains. After a disgusted glance from one passing lawyer, he tucked his battered old boots beneath him.

The firm of Novak, Roche and Barnes was impressive. Lush carpeting, solid wood panelling, expensive paintings - everything to suggest to their clients that they would make them plenty of money. Dean swallowed the tightness in his throat. He doubted he could afford even an hour of their time. By the look of the list of names on the personnel board there were a whole lot of lawyers in these walls.

This was Castiel’s world. Rich. Elegant. And he fit in about as well as a bull elephant in a shark tank. But he had to see Cas. More than he wanted his next breath. See him. Not just dial his phone number and leave a damn message. That’s why he had been stupid enough to get on a plane, and fly out here and land on his doorstep in the middle of the damn day. Dean pressed his thumb and forefinger to his closed eyes until bright sparks shot beneath his lids. What was he thinking? This was a stupid idea. Cas wouldn’t want to see him.

Dean rose to his feet. He would go. This was impulsive and ridiculous. Careful, methodical Cas wouldn’t appreciate a visit out of the blue. He would just send him an email. A thank you card. Yeah. That was a better idea.

“Mister Winchester?” His name startled him. An elegant woman in a grey suit approached and gave him a warm smile. “I am Hannah Carroll, Mister Novak’s personal assistant. If you would please come with me? He has been able to clear some time on his schedule once he heard you were here.”

Dean gave her a hesitant smile. “Thanks.” He followed, wondering briefly how she managed to walk all day on those sky high heels with the bright red soles.

“Dean? Dean!” An inappropriately loud shriek almost echoed down the hallway. Long legs in jeans and red hair flew toward him and launched into his arms for a hug.

“Charlie?” Dean grunted in surprise, hugged her and then stepped back for a closer look. The same, big smile, the same electric personality bubbled out of the woman.  “Wow. Check you out. You work here?”

“Fully fledged paralegal now.” Charlie flipped her hair, and smiled brightly at them both. “Hi, Hannah.” She winked at Castiel’s assistant. Hannah, for her part, maintained a contained exterior, though she smiled at Charlie. A warm, secretive smile.

“Good afternoon, Ms Bradbury.”

“I gotta bounce. You in town for a bit?” She asked Dean.

“Not sure. Maybe a couple days.”

“Shiny.” Charlie kissed him on the cheek. “Might see you soon then.” Charlie walked backward on her bright purple sneakers and blew a kiss. “Later, bitches.”

Dean watched her go, amusement chasing away his nerves for a moment. “So, I don’t know a lot about law firms, but Charlie … she doesn’t seem to ..quite fit in.”

“Yes. Mister Novak insists on her employment. She is incredibly gifted with computers and research. I believe they were at university together.” Hannah leaned forward and whispered. “She got in trouble for hacking an animal rights group that was siphoning donations away to the CEO’s private bank accounts. Castiel arranged for representation and got her a minimal sentence - community service, I believe. Then convinced her to come work for him.”

“Ah.” Dean couldn’t help but smile, a warmth starting around the level of his heart. He was done for. Really done for.

“Come on. He’s waiting.” Hannah preceded him down the hallway.

“Dean.” Castiel stood from behind the vast expanse of his file covered desk, doing up a button on his jacket.

“Cas. Hey.” Dean shoved his hands into his jean pockets, and stood awkwardly in the doorway of Castiel’s office. He took a moment to glance around. A couple of photos on the wall. Family. Jess. His diplomas. Walls of books. Filing cabinets. Vast windows overlooking a park.

He studied Cas then, while his attention was on Hannah. Clean shaven, neat and tidy hair, shadows under his eyes, and had he lost weight? His cheekbones seemed a little ...gaunt. A shard of concern shot through him.

“Thank you, Hannah. Please hold all of my calls.”

Hannah smiled, nodded and closed the door as she departed.

Castiel moved toward him, but stopped a few paces away. His compelling gaze skimmed Dean from head to toe, then back up again. “It is good to see you.”

Dean pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed his hands together. Something was wrong. “I needed to see you.”

A frown marred Castiel’s brow. “Is there something amiss?”

“No. Cas.” Dean stepped forward. He watched Castiel’s expression warily. Something was definitely off. “You made sure there was nothing amiss. You helped everything.”

“It was my pleasure, Dean.” Cas watched him with a coolly assessing gaze, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to help, and you did. And I can’t even express how grateful I am.”

“Now you have. Once again: you are welcome.”

“Look. Cas. I’m sorry. I know I should have called.” Dean rubbed his hand back through his hair, making it stand up on end, then the back of his neck. “I didn’t know how to say… what I wanted to say.”

“It’s alright. I understand. No need to explain.” Castiel held up a hand to stay Dean’s stumbling words.

“But I ...” Dean swallowed the sudden hurt. He understood too.

“I don’t think you understand, Dean. I don’t want to hear it.” Castiel couldn’t meet his eyes. “Let it suffice that I helped a friend, and we can leave it at that.”

“Friend. Right.” Dean nodded slowly, feeling his heart crack. “Sure, Cas. Friends.” He tried for a smile, and held out his hand.

Castiel hesitated, then reached out to take Dean’s hand. “Goodbye, Dean. A safe journey home.”

“Goodbye, Cas.”

There was a long echoing silence, before a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in.” Castiel dropped Dean’s hand.

Hannah entered and said softly. “I’m sorry, Mister Novak. Your three o’clock is here.”

Castiel nodded. “Thank you, Ms Carroll. I’m sorry, Dean, but I’m afraid …” He turned and walked back to his desk.

“Sure. I will get out of your hair. Absolutely.” Dean turned and strode for the door, not looking back.

 

He didn’t see how white Castiel’s knuckles went when he clutched the edge of his desk and bent over it as though in pain.


	22. Twenty Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An early morning visitor

“Dean?”

The sound of his name through the noise of the coffee shop caught his attention and he glanced up. He mustered up a smile when he recognised Charlie. “Hey. Finished work?”

Charlie dumped her bag and set her jumbo sized coffee cup before her. She sat opposite. “Yep. Needed myself a cup of the good stuff before I head out for my game this evening. How did catching up with Cas go yesterday?”

Dean lifted his cup to his mouth to delay his reply a little. “All good. He looks good.”

“He looks like shit,” Charlie corrected. “But you try telling him he is working too hard, right?”

Dean shrugged, staring morosely into the surface of his drink as though it held all the solutions he wanted. He glanced up when the silence extended. Charlie was watching him curiously.

“What?”

“Why did you come here, Dean?” Her voice was gentle.

“To say thanks to Cas. For helping.”

“You could have done that over the phone.”

“No. When someone does something like that you say thanks in person,” Dean said stubbornly.

“Hmmm.” Charlie sipped contemplatively. “You know he went up there, right? To the head office in Wichita?”

“What?” Dean was surprised.

“Yup. He got me to look into it with my …skills.” She wiggled her fingers as though on a keyboard. “When I discovered that asshole had submitted false reports, I sent everything I had to Cas, and he went up there.”

Dean was bewildered. “Why would he do that?”

“Well, duh. Do I have to spell it out, honey?” Charlie’s voice was pitying.

Dean shook his head. “When I saw him yesterday, he was not…he wasn’t…”

Charlie narrowed her eyes. “What did that idiot say?”

“Nothing,” Dean said hurriedly, then repeated, slumping back in his seat a little: “Nothing.”

“Huh.” Charlie picked up her coffee cup, stood up. “See you later, Dean.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Safe journey back, okay? When do you head off?”

“Midnight.”

“Be good, soldier.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dean waved her good bye and checked his watch. Sam was going to pick him up when he finished his evening lecture. Couple hours. He picked up his coffee again. He was done. He would get over this full blown crush he had on Castiel Novak. He would go back home and rebuild.

 

Charlie headed back. She marched into Castiel’s office and kicked the door shut behind her.

“You jackass. What did you say to him?”

“None of your business, Charlie,” Castiel growled.

“Yeah it is, you whiny git. I had to listen to you drunkenly mope after his cute buns. He came all the way to California to personally say thank you. And you didn’t lock the door and ravish him on this very plush carpet? Idiot.”

“Stop calling me an idiot.”

“I will when you stop acting like one.”

“Assbutt.”

Charlie gave a delighted laugh. “Did you just call me ‘assbutt’?”

“Yes.” Cas scrubbed his face with his palms and groaned. “I’m an idiot.”

“You can still fix it, Cas.” Charlie tapped him on the nose.

Cas rubbed the back of his neck. “You think?”

“He came here, Cas. Could have just phoned. And he was moping in a coffee shop this afternoon like he got cancer of the puppy.”

“Should I…?” Cas gestured to his phone.

“No. Idiot.” Charlie rolled her eyes. “This one you gotta fix in person. Look, Cas, you gotta figure what's important. Getting to know Dean Winchester in a forever and ever kind of way or working twenty six hours a day, eight days a week for the rest of your life." Charlie shrugged. "Seems a no brainer. And he just came here. To a place he clearly felt so uncomfortable being in, just to see you. From Kansas. If that doesn't scream 'I love you, Cas Novak', I don't know what does." Charlie emphasised each little point with a circle of her finger at him.

Castiel fidgeted with a pen, considering. Finally:

“I need to clear my schedule for a couple of days. Hannah has gone home.”

“Leave it with me, my precious.” Charlie beamed. “I will get you all booked on a flight out of Oz in no time.”

The banging on Dean’s front door had him snorting awake. Getting home at 4 am had left him with a headache and ill temper. The fact he had only managed three hours of sleep since, if the luminescent numbers on his bedside clock were any indication, hadn’t improved his mood.

He shoved back the covers, and irritably yanked a tshirt from the floor of his bedroom over his head. His motheaten tracksuit pants would have to make do.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, just gained in intensity.

“Alright, alright,” he growled and yanked open the door. His eyes went wide in horrified shock.

“Mister Winchester. Are you going to invite us in? It’s damn cold out here.” The vinegary voice of Mrs Novak shredded his heads and put a spike in the low grade headache that throbbed at the base of his head.

“Uhh, yeah.” Dean looked in bewilderment at an apologetic, silent Anna, standing just behind Mrs Novak. “Come in.”

Mrs Novak studied the plain furnishings of his home with a shrewish eye. She was dressed in an expensive black wool coat, a deep red hat and matching leather gloves. He led them in to the kitchen with the antique dining table and its refurbished chairs.

“Cup of ...tea?” He was pretty sure he had some. “Coffee?”

“Neither,” Mrs Novak snapped, dusting off one of the chairs with a handkerchief before seating herself. “I need a word with you.”

“Have I done … something wrong?” He thought, without the slightest hint of guilt, about the night where the woman’s grandson had twisted his life sideways as he had ravished Dean senseless.

“Are you, or are you not, in a relationship with my grandson?”

Dean thought he had misheard. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you… or are you not … in a relationship with my grandson?” She spoke slower, as though he were an imbecile.

“What business is it of yours if I am?” Dean folded his arms across his chest and leaned back on the kitchen bench.

“It is my business, boy, because Castiel is my blood. There isn’t so very many of us left.”

Dean pressed his fingers to his brow and rubbed. “I’m not in a relationship with your grandson.”

“And do you promise never to do so?”

“What?” Dean glanced up. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want him ending up with some hick mechanic who just wants him for his money. You don’t belong in our world, Mister Winchester. You belong in this one. Leave Castiel alone. He can do…” Mrs Novak sneered. “...so much better.”

“You’re right.” Dean pressed his palms to the benchtop behind him. “He could do better than me. And he will.” His knuckles were white as he tried to control the flare of temper. “But I won’t make that promise.”

“That’s just ...unreasonable,” Mrs Novak snapped. “You admit it yourself. You just want his money. You can hardly expect me to approve of any union knowing that. It will be the first thing I will ensure he knows about you.”

“No, Mrs Novak. I don’t want his money. I just want him.” Dean stared down at his bare feet, chilled on the stone floor of his childhood.

“Ten thousand.”

Dean’s eyes flashed. “What?”

“Ten thousand dollars if you promise never to see him again. Ever.”

Dean pushed himself upright. His voice was dangerously soft. “Leave my house, Mrs Novak. Now. Anna, a pleasure to see you, and I’m sorry for throwing you out.”

“Mister Winchester,” Mrs Novak stood, her bright blue eyes growing watery. “Please, be reasonable.”  
“This is me being reasonable, Mrs Novak. You have insulted me in every way possible. You cannot control my life and who I choose to love. But because you are Castiel’s grandmother I will do you the favour of forgetting you were ever here.”

“He will never love you, boy.”

Dean shrugged. “I know. So you should feel safe in the knowledge that I refuse to give you any kind of promise, since you say it is impossible anyway.”

“Then I take my leave of you, Mister Winchester. I shall not wish you well, because you, frankly, do not deserve it.”

Dean headed down the hallway and opened the front door. A whip of chill wind brought goosebumps to his skin. Mrs Novak marched outside. Anna hesitated beside him, looking up with her big luminous blue eyes, so like Castiel’s in colour, but far gentler. She whispered swiftly:

“I’m sorry, Dean. I would have liked you as a brother.” She kissed him quickly on the cheek before bounding down the steps toward the town car that waited on the road.

Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his tracksuit pants. He sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this, my dears. Thank you.


	23. Twenty Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> <3

“Are you sure about this?” Charlie asked Castiel, as his flight was called.

“Yes.”

“Really sure?”

“Really sure.” Castiel extended the handle of his carry on luggage.

“Love you, idiot.”

“Love you too, assbutt.”

“Good luck!”

Castiel kissed Charlie on the cheek before heading down the carpeted stairs for his flight.

“Hey Dean, you got another suit here.” Garth’s voice echoed in the workshop.

“What does this one want?” Dean yelled from his position beneath the Impala. Cleaning his baby up was proving to be a bitch. But damn it, he was going to try.

“I dunno, buddy. Maybe some papers or somethin’. I’m gonna take off for some lunch. You want anythin’?”

“I’m good.”

The sound of approaching footsteps sounded on the concrete. Dean glanced to one side. Highly polished Italian leather shoes paused beside the driver’s side door. Pinstripe suit too.

“Look, man. I thought everything was settled with the workshop. Papers signed and whatever.”

“There are things that remain unsettled, Dean.” The gravelly voice, the achingly familiar gravelly voice had him dropping the wrench, clipping his forehead on the way down.

“Fuck, ow!” Dean growled, as the metal tool clattered on concrete.

A concerned face appeared down low. Those expensive trousers kneeling in god only knows what. Dean stared at Castiel.

“Are you alright?” Cas was frowning.

Dean turned his head to stare back up at the twisted interior of the engine block. He was imagining things, right? Why would Cas be here? He turned his head again. Nope. Cas was here.

Dean pushed his way out from under Baby. The trolley he was on squeaking it’s protest. He lay down on it a long while, staring up at Castiel, who stood there in his expensive shoes, pinstripe suit and tan coloured wool coat. He stood there. With his face. And his hair. And those hands. Dean blinked. Why was he standing there?

“Cas?” He managed finally.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded seriously, and held out his hand to Dean.

Dean shook his head. “I’m filthy.”

“I don’t care,” Castiel said flatly.

Dean gripped the proffered hand and pulled himself up. “When did you get in?”

“Just then. I have a few questions I need to know the answer to.”

Dean wiped his hands on a rag, and held it out to Cas. Cas shook his head, pulled a pristine white handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to methodically clean his oily hand.

“Go...go ahead.” Dean self consciously folded his arms across his chest.

“You rang me a few months ago and left a message. I got the impression that you preferred not to further what we had in Texas. Was that your intention?” Castiel took on the tone of a lawyer cross examining a witness.

Dean’s eyes went wide with surprise. “What? No. Hell no. I was trying to explain that I was nervous as hell. Didn’t know what I had to offer a guy like you.”

“I see.” Castiel clasped his hands behind his back and met Dean’s gaze steadily. “Second question - I understand my grandmother came to see you. For that, I apologise. In many ways she is a wonderful woman, and in others, she is an interfering battleaxe. The visit was one of the latter. What you said to her, was it true?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t wish to ask for clarification on which part I was referring to?”

“No. I didn’t lie.”

“I see.” Castiel pursed his lips slightly, seeming to consider his next question carefully.

“Cas?”

“One moment. A final question…”

Dean nodded mutely.

“Would it be terribly inappropriate to ask whether you would consider furthering a relationship with me, at some point in the near future, if it came to pass that I might well be a little closer than California?”

Dean visibly swallowed.

“You see…” Castiel paced a little bit, “I seem to have fallen somewhat in love with you. I thought that you had no further wish to see me, but when you came to California a week ago, I thought perhaps your feelings had changed.”

“No. They haven’t.” Dean shook his head.

Castiel went very still, and his eyes darkened with sudden pain and no small amount of confusion. Dean stepped in very close, and touched Castiel lightly on the cheek with the rough pads of his fingertips. His voice dropped to a whisper. “My feelings hadn’t changed, because I fear I was as much in love with you then, as I was in Texas. Maybe even before that, but I was too dumb to notice.”

Castiel’s eyes softened in wonder.

“I might have to kiss you now, if you don’t mind?” Dean murmured, a few millimetres now from Castiel’s mouth.

“I think I can acquiesce to that request.”

Dean brushed his lips gently against Castiel’s, then deepened as the other man’s arms came up around his torso to pull him in close. Dean manoeuvred to put Cas between him and the side of Baby. His very grimy hands were pressed on Baby’s metal, so he wouldn’t mess Cas up further. It was some many minutes, some very hot, very breathless minutes, before Dean backed away slightly.

“What do you mean by closer?”

Castiel’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “I quit.”

“Huh?” Dean frowned and pulled back a little further. “What do you mean?”  
“Just that.” Castiel shrugged a shoulder. “Charlie asked would I rather lose you or work myself to death.” He frowned to himself. “Or something like that.”

“So you are moving ...here?” Dean asked warily.

“Yes.” Castiel nodded, and tilted his head in query. “If your answer to my question is yes.”

Dean leaned in again, this time not giving a single damn about messing up nice, clean suits. Castiel’s eyes went a little wide, and a smile curved his delicious lips.

“Would you consider….furthering …” Cas cleared his throat as Dean’s lips trailed down the curve of his neck. “...uhh...a relationship…” He groaned a little, his hand going to the back of Dean’s head, raking through his hair. “...Dean…”

Dean kissed the base of Cas’ throat where his heart was starting to beat a little wild. “Yes.” He straightened and met Castiel’s gaze. “Absolutely, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an epilogue coming. I couldn't quite end it there.


	24. Twenty Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for sticking with me. I have had a lot of fun writing this. Sometimes I struggle to write but this just seemed to flow, and all the positive thoughts and encouragement really helped. 
> 
> Thank you.

Dean leaned back against Castiel’s chest, as the autumn night skies glittered gem bright above. Cas was relaxed against the cushioning of the outdoor setting he had purchased a couple weeks ago, arguing that the old setting was rusted out and damned uncomfortable. Dean had protested. But he lost that argument, along with the installation of the new hot water system that didn’t cut out after ten minutes. They also had a new bed, with a mattress that felt like a damn cloud. But the house was the same. The view was the same. And now autumn was here, the scent of field fires was fragrant in the air.

Dean took a deep draught of his beer, the fingers of his other hand were entwined with Castiel’s.

“So how was your day, dear?” he asked Cas drily.

“Definitely an improvement on any given day in California.” Castiel briefly raised Dean’s knuckles to his lips. “And yours?”

“Garth is so goddamn happy I offered to combine our superpowers that it’s nauseating.”

“I like Garth.”

Dean paused, and grinned. “I do too.”

“Marry me.”

Dean blinked and levering himself up a little, turned to stare at Castiel. “What?”

A flush crossed Castiel’s cheek. “It makes sense. We have been living together for a couple of months now. I have a business here that, deservedly or not, continues to grow beyond the borders of this town. Anna likes you. Even my grandmother doesn’t mutter dire predictions of my downfall anymore.”

Dean propped himself on one knee, his hands either side of Cas, clutching the soft brown cushioning of the lounge. His smile couldn’t be described as anything other than a smirk. He didn’t often smirk. But in this case it was deserved. “Oh. Because your grandmother doesn’t curse my name anymore? That’s a reason that I should forgo my carefree bachelor days, and tie myself down to one man?”

Castiel fisted his hand in Dean’s shirt. “I love you.”

Dean’s smile widened into something more genuine, and despite his obvious nervousness, Castiel’s mouth curved as well. Dean leaned forward. “Marry me? Even though my family interfere worse than yours and Bobby calls you an idjit half the time too. Even though I come home every night covered in dirt and grease and you can’t stop your nose wrinkling at the smell, and won’t let me touch you until I have a shower. Even though -”

Castiel interrupted Dean by yanking him down into a fierce kiss. Dean’s hand cupped the back of Castiel’s head, sliding his fingers into the slightly too long strands of his hair. When they broke apart, breathing a little too hard, eyes slumberous, Castiel said softly. “Yes.”

Dean cupped his hand around Castiel’s cheek. His thumb slid over Castiel’s lips. “Yes.”

A little while later, Dean gained an appreciation for the softness and depth of cushion on the lounge as Cas laid boneless and breathless over him, a gentle breeze cooling the sweat on their skin. Dean chuckled softly. “Okay. The lounge was a good idea.”

Castiel’s mouth moved against his shoulder. “Told you.”

Dean slapped Cas on the butt. “Come on. We have some phone calls to make.”

Cas groaned. “Not yet. Why doesn’t this damn town have a gym. I’m losing muscle tone.”

Dean licked his neck, bringing a visible shudder down Castiel’s spine. “Why don’t you just install one.”

“Done.”

“Shit.” Dean just rumbled with laughter. “Open my big mouth.”

Cas propped himself up on one hand. “I like your mouth, Dean.” He brushed his mouth across Dean’s already well-kissed lips. “Very much.”

Dean growled and yanked Cas closer.

 

 **  
**They made the phone calls in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone got ideas for another one?


End file.
